Mainstreaming
by One Small Monkey
Summary: OK, so the Shredder's dead, and the Foot's dissolved. Now what? (Story complete...although anyone who wants to take it from here is more than welcome)
1. One

Master Splinter completed the Crane maneuver, then pivoted around. Upon raising his head, he noticed something amiss out of the corner of his eye. He stole a glance over, immediately returning his eyes forward.

"Focus, Donatello," he said quietly. He moved immediately into the next maneuver without breaking his rhythm.

Donatello suddenly opened his eyes wide, looked down at the position of his hands, then turned to look at his brothers. He was about a quarter-step behind everyone else in the tai-chi form, which was a sure sign that he was zoning out instead of paying attention. "Sorry, sensei," he said quietly. He made the necessary adjustment, and continued on.

The routine came to a close, and the turtles walked over to grab their weapons. Leonardo began strapping his katana onto the back of his shell. "We all know where we're headed tonight?"

Raphael nodded and spun his sai around in his hands. "North."

Michelangelo added, "West."

Leonardo waited, but when he didn't hear from Donatello, he piped up. "Don?"

"Hm?" Donatello looked up, holding his bo in an abstracted manner. "Oh. Um, east, isn't it?"

Leonardo decided to laugh it off. "As long as you're sure. Let's go."

They began to file out the main entrance, but Splinter spoke up. "Donatello, please remain." The other turtles paused, but on Leonardo's signal, they followed him out toward the ladder that led topside.

Donatello sighed quietly and slipped his bo onto his back. He walked over to Splinter and knelt down.

Splinter looked concerned. "Is everything all right, my son?"

Donatello shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so, sensei."

"You appear to be...lost in thought. Much more so than normal. Is there anything on your mind?"

"I..." Twice Donatello began to speak, but stopped each time. Finally he shrugged. "I'm still trying to...work it all out in my head."

"Indeed?"

"You've said before - you've got to know what the problem is before you can solve it."

"Very true."

"I'm not sure what the problem is, exactly. I've got an idea, but...I still need to mull it over a bit."

"Well, if I can be of assistance, please ask." Splinter held up a warning finger. "And do not allow your guard to slip. The way of ninjitsu allows no room for error."

Donatello smiled. "I won't. Thank you, sensei." He got up, bowed, and headed out the door. Splinter looked after him, wondering. Donatello wasn't one to let his feelings show, let alone talk about them, so his current mood wasn't really discussed outright. But everyone knew what it was. Leonardo, if asked, would probably say that Donatello was "distracted". Michelangelo once mentioned that he saw Donatello "getting all think-y", and Raphael would grumble that Don was performing a physical feat that was impossible, even for a mutant turtle at his most limber. Only Master Splinter had given it any real thought.

From time to time, Donatello would get this far-off look in his eyes, and he'd find it hard to concentrate on anything. On one occasion, he had headed off on patrol without his bo (Raph still gave him hell for that). He would clam up and not participate in the dinner conversations that ordinarily he enjoyed so much. Instead, he'd sit staring at the candles on the table in some dreamlike state. Sometimes this mood would last a couple of hours, other times an entire week, coming and going without provocation. Master Splinter worried a bit, as the moods seemed to be becoming more frequent. However, Donatello seemed able to put it behind him when it was time to spar with his brothers, so Splinter trusted that Don wouldn't let his guard down on patrol. After all, patrol was not what it used to be.

The Shredder was dead, the Foot dismantled, and crime was at a low not seen in that area in some time. While this was a good thing, it wasn't good at all for Donatello's state of mind. Despite his efforts, he continually found his mind wandering, back to this not-quite formulated problem. Suddenly, a grunting noise caused him to look up, and he immediately had two thoughts. What was that? And where the heck am I?

He had led himself down a side street, and he was standing in front of an old, rundown house. The front lights were out, so it took his eyes a few seconds to make out the scene. An old man was trying to drag an old stump from out of the front yard.

I should probably help out, thought Donatello. Not exactly saving the world, but it's doing the right thing.

"Sir, did you need some help?"

The man stopped, stood up slowly, and squinted into the darkness. "Who is it?"

"Um, my name's Donatello. Did you need a hand with that?"

He couldn't see, only hear, the man smile. "Well, that's very nice of you...Donatello, did you say? Like the sculptor?"

Don smiled and headed into the gate around the front yard. "That's right. Where did you want that?"

"Anywhere but here! I was thinking around the end of the house, to the left there. Can you get that all right?"

Donatello reached down and hefted the stump up. It was heavy, but not painfully so. "Sure, no problem."

The man slowly led the way. Donatello patiently followed him around to the side of the house. The backyard was small, cluttered, and just as dark as the front. The man vaguely indicated an area. "Anywhere over there would be fine."

Donatello, moving carefully to avoid stepping on anything, half-dropped, half-tossed the stump against the wooden fence. He brushed his hands off, then turned around. "Good enough?"

"That's just fine, Donatello." The old man began reaching into his pocket. "Let me get you something..."

Donatello held up his hand. "No, please...sir. It wasn't any trouble at all."

"Surely I can repay you somehow..."

Donatello thought for a second. "Well, I am kind of thirsty. Could I get a glass of water?"  
  
The man laughed. "Of course. Come on inside." He started up the back steps, pausing after each one. Donatello followed behind, frowning at the creaking noise each step made. It took the man a few seconds to unlock the door, but once he had succeeded, he waved Donatello inside. The man switched the lights on, and Donatello flinched slightly as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a couple roaches scurry out of sight. The turtles had warred with roaches down in the sewer on several occasions, with the turtles never more than temporary victors.

In the full light, the man looked at Donatello head on, then shook his head. "I'll never understand the outfits you youngsters insist on wearing."

Don looked down at himself. He had put on an old, black, long-sleeve shirt, and a ripped pair of jeans cut short to fit his odd frame. He sighed. "Sir, this isn't an outfit. This is how I am."

"What are you? Half turtle?" The man got a glass out of the cupboard.

"Sort of. I'm a mutant." He steeled himself to whatever response he might get.

"Hm. A mutant," the man repeated. "Heard of 'em. Never seen one before, though." He thought for a second. "Well, don't let it bother you." He looked down at the glass in his hand. "This glass is dirty," he said, somewhat surprised.

Don smiled. "That's OK. I'll rinse it out." He took the glass from the man and headed over to the sink. "Do you live here alone, Mr...?"

"Samuels. Patrick Samuels. Yep - lived in this little place all by my lonesome ever since my wife passed away...ten years ago, now."

Don moved some of the dirty dishes out of the sink and began rinsing out the glass. "Isn't that a problem? Living here alone?"

Mr Samuels sighed. He pulled off his glasses and began rubbing his eyes. Finally, he said, "Kinda is, now. That's why I was out front."

"I was going to ask. It's sort of late to be doing yard work, isn't it?"

"Ahh, I couldn't sleep. Not with the city breathing down my neck."

Don turned off the tap, and took a quick sip of water. "What does the city want with you?"

Mr Samuels gestured at the whole house. "My house. It...isn't in the best shape. And I ain't as young as I used to be."

"So, what? They want to condemn?"

Again, Mr Samuels sighed. "My grandson's been on my case to sell it off. Property's worth a pretty penny."

"And you don't want to?"

"You wouldn't understand, Donatello. You're awful young - or seem to be, anyways. But I been living in this place for the last forty-five years, and I got no plans to move out now."

"You might have to, if they condemn." Don sipped his water again. "Can't you get someone to fix it up for you?"

"Can't afford it. Got a little money saved up, but not enough for a complete renovation. Only way I could get the money would be selling the place. Then, 'fcourse, I wouldn't need it." 

Donatello smiled sadly. "Real Gift of the Magi set-up."

Mr Samuels brightened up. "Yeah, sort of like. You're a bright kid, Donatello."

Donatello smile became more embarrassed, but suddenly snapped his fingers. "Wait a minute. What about boarders?"

Mr Samuels shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't mind, I guess, but I'd have to clean the place up first. No one would want to live here the way it looks now."

Don put the glass behind him on the counter. "What about me?"

"What? What about you?"

"Me as a boarder. Well, me and my...my family." Don went on excitedly. "We couldn't give you much in the way of rent, but we could fix the place up for you, keep it clean, and Mike...Michelangelo, my brother...he can cook pretty good, so..."

"Hold on, there, Donatello. Your family? How big's your family?"

"Five - four of us, and our teacher."

"I don't have that many rooms. That wouldn't work."

Donatello set his jaw. "Well, we're living two to a room now."

"Sooo...two pairs of two and one left over?"

"Uh-huh."

"Hm. Maybe. But would your family want to live here with some old geezer like me?"

"You seem pretty nice. I don't think we'd mind living with you at all. Besides, you don't know where we're living now." Donatello gave the matter some more thought, then shook his head. "I shouldn't offer until I know how the others feel, actually. Is it all right if I bring them by, and we can talk about it?"

"Don't see why not - never hurts to listen, as my wife used to say. Besides, if your family's half as nice as you, Donatello, I'd be honored to meet them."

Embarrassed, Donatello didn't know what to say. Luckily, his walkie-talkie jumped to life at that moment.

"Leo here. Ten pm - report." 

Mr Samuels eyed him suspiciously. "What's all this about?"

Donatello rolled his eyes. "Family." He plucked the walkie-talkie out of his belt and pressed the button. "Donatello here. Nothing to report. Leo, I need to talk with you, if you've got a second. Can I meet up with you somewhere?"

Oddly, Raphael answered first. "Something wrong, Don?"

"No, just need to chat with Leo for a bit."

Again, Raphael's voice came over first. "Fine. Leave me out. See if I care. Nothing to report, by the way."

Finally, Leo's voice came back. "Roger that. It's dead out here anyhow. Let's say we call off patrol early. How about Li's Market?"

Don smiled. "Perfect," he said into the walkie-talkie. I'll be there soon as I can."

As he replaced the walkie-talkie, he heard, "Michelangelo here - nothing to report, as always. See if the new Protectors comic is out yet, will ya, guys?" 

Don smiled to himself, then held out his hand to Mr Samuels. "I've got to get going. Can we come by tomorrow evening? Say, around seven?"

Mr Samuels shook his hand, a bit awkwardly. "Sounds good, Donatello. This is the first sign of hope in this little problem I've got."


	2. Two

How the heck do humans do this every day? Leonardo wondered.

He scanned the hundred-some beverages in the cooler. He had a few bucks saved up from helping Casey out with some odd jobs, and on a whim, decided to try one of those drinks that he had seen so often in the store coolers. But when confronted with so many choices, his brain felt like shutting down. Strawberry lemonade? Ice mist? Several times he started forward to open the case, and each time he stopped short. Pineapple passionfruit? Peach iced tea?

Donatello stepped into the shop, spied his brother near the cooler, and walked over. "Hey-a. What're you doing?"

Leonardo frowned. "Well, I was going to try one of these drinks, but I can't make up my mind which one."

Donatello scanned them quickly, then pointed toward the bottom left. "How about that one? The orange one."

Opening the cooler door, Leonardo reached down and withdrew a bottle. "Orange Carrot Elixir," he read aloud. "Why that one?"

"I dunno. Looked interesting. And it kinda looks like Mondo there on the label."

Taking another look, Leonardo smiled. "Hey, it does! Skateboard and all. Of course, Mondo isn't bald, and he wears clothes."

"They got that from us." They both laughed as they headed up to the counter. Leonardo put the drink down, then withdrew a small drawstring bag from his belt. He opened it up and poured some coins onto his hand.

Leroy, the cashier behind the counter, lowered the volume on the rap station, turned to Leonardo and grinned. "Must be a special occasion - you guys never get anything."

Leonardo smiled lopsidedly. "Very special. I've actually got money."

The cashier made a vague gesture with his hand. "Nah. You're cool."

Not understanding this, Leonardo said, "Um, thanks. How much?"

"Nah, man, I'm telling you - you're cool. No charge."

"What?"

Leroy attempted to explain. "Mr. Li said if you guys ever get somethin', it's no charge. Y'know, 'cause of what you did."

They both knew what Leroy meant. Back in February, Michelangelo had happened by during an armed robbery. Not even waiting for backup, he had broken it up and sent the would-be thief running off with a limp and a sore head.

"That wasn't me - that was Michelangelo," insisted Leonardo.

"Doesn't matter - Mr. Li says you're all cool. Besides, ain't you the ones that shut down them Foot guys?"

"How'd you know that was us?"

Leroy laughed. "Who else would it be - the cops? Go on - it's OK."

Leonardo looked at the drink. "Sensei would never let me just take something."

The cashier didn't even bother to wonder what that meant. "Why not give some coin to the kids, then?" He indicated the "Children in Need" donation bank next to the cash register.

"Sure, OK." Leonardo put two quarters and a dime in, and the cashier slid the drink back toward him. "Thanks. And thank Mr. Li for us."

The two brothers headed back outside. Leonardo paused, screwed off the lid, and took a sip.

"Well?" Donatello asked.

"Hm." Leonardo swished the drink around in his mouth for a second, then swallowed. "Kinda like orange juice. Nothing like carrots. Really sweet." He shrugged. "OK, I guess. You want to try?" He held the bottle over to Donatello.

"Gee, you make it sound so good," Donatello said, smiling. Despite his words, he took the bottle and had a swig. He paused, considering. "You're right. 'OK' is the word." He handed the bottle back, and they began the trek back to the lair.

After another sip, Leonardo asked, "So what did you want to talk about? Everything all right?"

"More than all right. Can I ask you a hypothetical question?"

"Sure."

"If it were up to you, and there was this house we could move into, would you?"

"What? Move?"

"Yeah."

"I guess it would depend on what Splinter would say."

Donatello got a bit irritated. "I know that, but what if it was all up to you?"

"Hm." Leonardo thought for a minute, sipping his drink. "Here?"

"What?"  
  
"The house. Would it be here in New York?"

Impatiently, Donatello nodded as they turned down an alley. "Yeah."

"Are we talking a big house here? I mean, I wouldn't have to share a room with Raph, would I?"

Donatello smiled. "You know what? I didn't even think of that. Well, say you had to share, but with me, like you do now."

"Hm," Leonardo said again, then polished off his drink. "Sure, I guess."

Donatello's smile faded. "You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"It's a hypothetical house - sort of hard to get worked up over it. Besides, I'm kinda used to the sewer." Leonardo stopped and tossed his empty bottle into a dumpster. He withdrew some small pipes from his belt, and used them to pull up the manhole cover.

Donatello began crawling down the hole. "I'm kinda used to it, too, but that doesn't mean I like it any." He got to the bottom, then pulled out a small flashlight from his belt. He shined the beam onto the ladder, to aid Leonardo as he came down. Once Leonardo had joined him at the base of the ladder, he swung his beam back to the sewer and led the way home.

After a few quiet seconds, he heard Leonardo's voice come from behind him. "I'm guessing this isn't a completely hypothetical situation you're talking about."

"No." They trudged on for awhile longer in silence.

"I'm also guessing you don't want to talk about it."

"Are you kidding? I'm dying to talk about it. But I may as well save it until we're all together, and then I only have to do it once."

"Oh. Good idea."

"Besides, you were right." Donatello sidestepped a puddle, and Leonardo did the same. "Splinter's the one I have to convince."

"You think he'll be up for it?"

Donatello sighed. "Leo, I don't know. It's just...I feel this is an opportunity - once in a lifetime, maybe. And I don't wanna blow it."

Leonardo didn't really understand, but he figured he would soon enough, so he didn't press.

They reached the entrance of the lair at the same time Michelangelo approached from the opposite direction.

"Hey," said Leonardo. "No sign of the new Protectors."

Michelangelo shrugged. "No biggie."

Donatello smirked. "You feelin' all right?"

"What'da mean?"

"Usually you start growling when you find out you gotta wait for your comics to come out."

Embarrassedly, Michelangelo rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, well, r'member Master Splinter said I needed to work on my patience." He sighed. "So I'm working on it."

Leonardo smiled a bit. "I'll let him know how well you're doing."

They walked into the lair, and Splinter greeted them warmly. "Another successful night, my sons?"

"A full night of 'nothing to report'. I guess you could call that a success," shrugged Michelangelo.

Splinter turned to Donatello. "Is everything all right, Donatello?"

"Better than all right, Sensei. At least I think so, anyway. I'd rather wait 'til Raph shows up before getting into it, though."

"Most prudent. Michelangelo, could you prepare drinks for us all while we wait?"

"No problemo."


	3. Three

Raphael hurried down the alley, then pulled up short at the graffiti-splattered door. He knocked loudly a few times, then waited. A large scowling man opened the door, but when he spotted Raphael, he smiled a bit.

Smiling back, Raphael said, "Hey. Are they on?" 

"Nope - not for half an hour." He waved Raphael in, closing the door behind him.

Raphael went down the rickety staircase to the basement, then headed down the hall. Even before he got to the green room, he heard voices arguing.

"I thought it'd look cool, that's all." "Well, it looks stupid." "Just 'cause you say it does..."

Raphael leaned into the doorway and knocked on the doorframe. "Do I hafta break you up again?"

Mondo Gecko was sprawled out on the beat-up sofa, guitar across his lap. He grinned wide when he recognized his visitor. "Raph! Perfect timing. Gimme your unbiased opinion on something." He threw his arm over towards the easy chair. "Is that stupid, or is that stupid?"

The drummer Miguel turned to face Raphael. Miguel had put on his traditional black shirt and shorts, and tied his long hair back. In addition, he had glued two small horns into his forehead.

Raphael leaned against the doorway and tried not to laugh. "Um...what kinda effect are you goin' for?"

Miguel got mad. "What'da ya think?"

"Well..." Raphael tried to phrase it carefully. "Whatever it is, I don't think they'll be able to see it from the crowd. And, honestly, it kinda looks like you're growin' antlers."

Mondo and Kia the bassist collapsed on top of one another in fits of laughter as Miguel jumped to his feet. "Yeah, like I'm gonna listen to the turtle on how to look cool!"

Mondo waved him back to the seat and attempted to get ahold of himself. "No, no, Miguel, it's cool, it's cool. Whew. It's just - look." He shook his head. "It ain't gonna fly. We can't just go changing our look suddenly. We've spent all this time and work and stuff building a following. Messing with our look isn't something you can just do because you feel like it."

"So you pullin' rank again?" Miguel looked really peeved in spite of his horns.

Kia jumped in. "No, he's right, Miguel. I'd be like...like me going acoustic or something. We can't mess with the band without talking about it first."

Mondo waved his hands and started talking before Miguel could say anything else. "Look, I don't have a problem with changing the look or anything, but we gotta talk about it first. And not right before a show. Y'know what I mean?"

Miguel nodded, sadly. "Yeah, I guess."

"Cool. Now take those damn things off."

Miguel snorted, got up and headed to the bathroom. Mondo shook his head after him, then turned to Raphael. "Drummers. Whatcha gonna do?"

"Don't start. You said yourself good drummers are hard to find. Hey, Kia."

Kia smiled. "Raphael. Did you hear the news?"

"Um...some record company muckety-muck came by to catch your show?"

"If he did, he didn't like it. No, you remember I was lookin' for a place for us to move into?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, MG 'n' I found a place just two blocks from here."

"Really?" He looked back at Mondo. "You movin' out of the sewers?"

"Hope you're not offended. I guess I have a lower threshold for sewage than you guys."

"Well, y'know, when you're born there...when's move-in date?"

Kia answered, "Not for a bit. November fifteenth."

"Big? Small?"

Grinning, Mondo said, "Big for New York, small for the rest of the world."

"So you two are moving in together. That don't mean...you two aren't...an item, are ya?"

Mondo and Kia both laughed. "An item?" Mondo echoed. "Y'know, Splinter's a great guy 'n' all, but he sure gets you talkin' weird!"

Kia nodded. "MG's my guitarist, my bandleader, and my friend." She patted him on his head. "And nothing more."

Letting his eyes roll skyward, Mondo moaned, "It's the tail, isn't it? It's always the tail!"

Kia smiled playfully. "Nah, the tail's sexy. It's the immaturity that's a turnoff."

Mondo shoved her away and smiled. "You stayin' for the show, Raph? I'll get you sodas, if you want."

"Nah, I gotta split. Don called a meeting, but since I had north watch, I figured I'd peek in and say hey."

"Meeting? What about?"

"Beats me. He said it was important, which means it probably isn't. Congrats on the new place. Oh, 'fore I forget, Leo's birthday's comin' up. We're prolly gonna have our traditional mini-party."

"Cool - whenzat again?"

"November first. I'm assuming the party's same night - it's not like we gotta

wait 'til the weekend."

"No show that night - I'll be there," nodded Mondo.

"Me too?" Kia asked.

"Sure."

"I'll check my schedule, but I think that's no problem."

Raphael grinned. "Cool - I'll double check 'n' get back to you."

"Say hey to the rest." Mondo waved.

"You bet." Raphael spun around and leapt up the steps two at a time. The security guy let him out, and Raphael walked down the alley to the manhole cover. As he lifted it up, he began thinking about Leo's birthday - he had to come up with something to get him. Something cheap.

Raphael smiled as he replaced the cover above his head and started his descent down the ladder. November first wasn't really Leo's birthday, of course. No one knew when their birthdays were. Soon after their mutation, Splinter had managed to get ahold of some children's books, which he had used to help teach them all to read. One of the easier ones was called "Jeremy's Birthday Surprise", in which Jeremy got a large blanket for his birthday instead of a bicycle. Michelangelo had been the one to ask "What's a birthday?" Splinter had explained it to them, and they were all upset - geez, we were little whiners back then, Raphael thought embarrassedly - that they didn't have birthdays. Splinter decided they should each have one, so he wrote down four dates, three months apart, and they all drew one out of a bowl.

So every three months, they had a little party. Michelangelo made cupcakes, April brought pizza and ice cream, and they played music louder than normal. Kinda fun, actually. Leo never seemed to enjoy it as much as the others did - probably because it was too much like slacking. Still, he tried to get into it, and that was something. And since Raphael and Leonardo had patched things up fairly well over the last year, Raphael decided a good gift was in order. But what? By the time he returned to the lair, he still hadn't thought of anything.

"Sorry I'm late." Raphael took off his belt, placing his sai on the shelf. "Mondo 'n' the band say hello." He walked into the kitchen.

"Big crowd tonight?" Michelangelo asked.

"Couldn't tell - left before they started." Raphael got his water, then flopped down on the empty space on the couch.

Splinter smiled slightly. "Now that we have all assembled, what did you want to discuss with us, Donatello?"

Donatello stood up and approached Splinter's cushion. Once directly in front of him, he dropped to his knees and bowed his head down.

The other turtles stared at this unexpected move, but Splinter, as always, took it in stride. He readjusted himself to sit in a more formal style, and returned the bow. Leonardo, and then the other two, got up and knelt down somewhat behind Donatello.

Splinter finally broke the silence. "Does this mean you have defined your problem?"

Still looking down, Donatello said, "I believe so, sensei, and I may have also found an answer."

"Excellent. Speak your thoughts, my son."

Donatello looked up at Splinter and relaxed somewhat. He took a deep breath and began, "Master, today I met someone new." He went into detail as to how he had met Mr Samuels, the current problem Mr Samuels found himself in, and how they came to discuss the possibility of people moving in. As he reached the end of the story, he hurriedly added, "Mr Samuels is a very nice man. I'm not asking everyone to pack up and move, but I do humbly request that we at least meet with him tomorrow."

Splinter closed his eyes for a few seconds. Donatello held his breath, wondering if he should say anything else. He had opened his mouth to speak when Splinter's eyes flew open. Splinter slowly looked at each of them in turn.

"Shall we hear arguments?"

Donatello closed his mouth, shut his eyes and set his jaw. He more or less knew this was coming - Splinter had always taught them to attempt to see all issues from all sides. So whenever some major decision would confront them (and they had the time to do so), Splinter would have them find as many arguments as they could, for each side of the issue. Donatello knew this was the fair thing to do, but he wasn't sure if he could hold his tongue through the entire ordeal. He also knew from past experience that it would only hurt his cause to argue back during the first round, but it was very difficult not to do so.

While everyone rearranged themselves so they were sitting in a circle, Leonardo spoke up. "Master, did you want arguments on moving, or on meeting this man...Mr Samuels?"

"Excellent question, my son. One should not argue the problem until one knows what the problem is." Splinter smiled. "If we choose in favor of moving, then we of course will meet Mr Samuels in any event. So let us argue the larger issue - moving. Consider the situation. Assume the house is suitable, and the terms are affordable. Then, should we move from our current home to a house on the surface?"

Raphael spoke up first. "Con. If we move into a house onto the street, it'll be that much easier for folks to hit us unawares."

Leonardo nodded. "Con. We may be putting this Mr Samuels into danger by moving in with him, especially if the neighbors got violent."

Michelangelo piped up. "Pro. I'd love to be able to fix dinner in a real kitchen."

Leonardo. "Pro. No more stealing electricity and water."

Raphael snorted. "That's a pro and a con."

There was a slight pause, but then Michelangelo spoke again. "Pro. Living in a house...well, it'd be easier to meet people."

Donatello was rather stunned by this admission. He knew Michelangelo liked interacting with humans more than the rest of them (even Master Splinter), but it was another thing entirely to actually admit he wanted to meet them.

Raphael intruded on this thought. "Con. I don't know if we're cut out to do home improvements, least not so this Mr Samuels is satisfied."

Leonardo. "Con. We'd be leaving Mondo Gecko alone down here."

Michelangelo. "Con. Um, I haven't seen the place, but there's probably not as much room there - and so where you gonna keep all your junk, Don?"

Leonardo. "Pro. We won't have to worry about maintenance folk showing up on us."

Michelangelo. "Pro. Being topside, that'd make it easier for Sensei to sell his paintings."

There was a long pause, finally broken by a muttering by Raphael. "Pro. It means no more living like animals."

Splinter waited in silence for a minute, then asked, "Anything more?" Upon not receiving a reply, he went on. "Donatello, do you wish to respond to any of the arguments against?"

Donatello nodded, but Raphael spoke first. "I better say something first - I got info Don ain't got. Mondo says he 'n' Kia found a place near the club. They'll be moving in next month."

Leonardo nodded. "All right - he won't be a factor then."

Donatello smiled a bit, then paused to take a drink while he tried to remember who had said what. "OK, then. Raph, I think we'll do fine at home repair. It can't be any harder than sewer repair."

Raphael shrugged. "Probably not - just thought I'd bring it up."

"And, honestly, Mike, I hadn't thought about getting my whole lab topside. I may have to leave a bunch of stuff behind. And Leo, you're right. We might be putting Mr Samuels in danger."

"We don't know that for sure, though," Leonardo admitted.

"And about the safety issue." Donatello paused. "Do any of you feel that we're being targeted anymore? We haven't run into any renegade Foot soldiers or anything, have we?"

Raphael nodded. "Of course, someone else might target us if we start living on the surface."

Donatello considered that. "Well, possibly."

There was another slight pause, broken by Splinter. "There is something else, is there not, Donatello?"

Donatello looked up at his sensei, then back down to his lap. "I'm not sure how to say it."

Splinter smiled a bit. "Say it anyway you wish. We will look for the meaning behind your words."

Donatello took another sip of water, then nodded towards Michelangelo. "Mike, I read some of your Protectors comics awhile back." Michelangelo wasn't ready for the topic change, but then nodded, and Donatello went on. "They were OK, I guess, but I didn't like the end of each one. Y'know, the Protectors would catch the bad guys, and instead of finishing them off for good, they'd take them to jail or something, and then, next issue, the bad guys are back, causing more mischief. I kept thinking, geez, y'know, why don't they just put them away once and for all?" Donatello took a breath. "But I guess I know the answer to that now."

Nodding, Splinter said, "Yes, I believe you do."

Raphael shook his head. "Maybe you do, but I sure don't. What's this got to do with moving?"

"Everything, really. Give me a second." Raphael held up his hands, and Donatello went on. "They...the comic book company, I mean...had to keep the bad guys alive. No bad guys, no conflict. No conflict, no plot. No plot, no comic book. And, if you think about it, that's sort of what happened to us when we took out Shredder and the Foot." Donatello hurriedly added, "Don't get me wrong - I'm glad they're gone. But see, we'd been battling them for so long that we didn't...well, I didn't know what to do next. We're still going on patrol, but there doesn't seem to be much reason to."

Raphael started drumming his fingers on his knee. "Plenty of crime still out there."

"Yeah, I know, but what kind? You've got your gang warfare, drug running, and some thievery. Burglaries and heists we might stumble upon and stop, but I don't know if we're the right ones to be brokering gang treaties or busting up drug syndicates."

"Well, then what are you sayin', exactly?"

"Well, I don't know, but think about it. As long as Shredder was around, I felt that our role was pretty clear. It was important to stop him. But now? What we're doing, I don't think it's...well, honestly, to me, it's not enough."

Michelangelo voiced everyone's thought. "What's not enough?"

With a wave of his hand, Donatello indicated the lair. "This. All of it. Living in the sewers 'n' going on patrol. You know me - I'm the geek. The nerd. I read everything I can get my hands on. Learning new things...it's in my nature, I guess. It's what I am. But there are things you can't learn by reading."

Raphael eyed his brother critically. "Like what?"

"Heck, lots of things. How about ninjitsu? Yeah, there's books on it, but I bet you learn more in ten minutes with Master Splinter than you do reading a hundred books."

"OK. So?"

"So there's learning out there that I can't get out of books. And that means I have to get teachers to teach me. That means going to school, and that means learning to live topside."

Raphael snorted. "So you're gonna leave us?"

"No! I don't mean...Raph, I could keep going on patrol every night and maybe help out the stray hooker or whatever, but I don't think that's the best place for me. And frankly, that's not what I want to do the rest of my life. I can't speak for you, but maybe that's not what you want to do with your life either. And now, with the Shredder out of the way, I think we've got ourselves an amazing opportunity. An entrance to the real world. And maybe it's our ticket to finally start living our lives any way we want to." Donatello paused for breath, then went on. "Maybe you haven't given it much thought, but we've got our whole lives ahead of us now, with no Shredder in our way. We don't have to live down here anymore - we can do whatever we want."

"Bull," countered Raphael. "You know the humans won't let us just do whatever."

"Really?" Donatello sat up straighter. "How do we know that?"

"You know the looks we get - the crap they say..."

"Yeah? Well, what about April? Or the folks at Mr Li's? Or Candy? Or Kia? They all seem to deal with us pretty well. I'm not saying we won't have some grief thrown away, but I think I can handle it...and I know you think you can."

Raphael froze, mid-retort. He had never really thought of it that way.

Michelangelo rubbed the back of his head. "Sssooo, what does that mean for the rest of us?"

"What do you mean?"

"So you go off and learn stuff. What're we supposed to do?"

Donatello regarded Michelangelo at length before answering. "Whatever you want. Mike, this isn't about me leaving you behind or anything. This is about freedom - the freedom to do what we want. You must have thought about this sometime. Isn't there something you want to do with your life?"

Michelangelo looked down and shrugged. "Kinda."

Sensing his discomfort, Donatello didn't pry. "Well, don't you see, then? This is our chance to possibly live out those dreams."

Leonardo didn't look convinced. "And leave Sensei behind?"

"What do you mean? This isn't about leaving any of us behind. We'll all still be together - just doing what we all want to do, including Splinter!"

Master Splinter spoke up. "Leonardo, what Donatello says is exceedingly insightful. Even as I trained you, my sons, my hope was someday that you would be able to live among humans, as humans. Otherwise, what good was it that you were mutated? A life trapped in the sewer is not so far removed from a life trapped in a glass bowl."

Leonardo looked at Master Splinter for a minute. "So this talk of moving...it doesn't bother you?"

Smiling sadly, Master Splinter shook his head. "Leonardo, there is always sadness when one's children grow up, but there is an abundance of pride that eclipses it. Our home in the sewers has served us admirably for the last several years, but perhaps Donatello is correct. Perhaps we have outgrown it, and it is time for this next step." He turned to face each of them in turn. "Donatello has made his points most admirably. Do any of you remain unconvinced? Feel free to speak." Leonardo started to speak twice, but stopped each time. Splinter urged him on. "Speak, Leonardo. You will not be judged."

"It's...it's a heck of a change, isn't it? It's like starting a whole new life."

"You are correct. It is a challenge, certainly. Is it a challenge you do not feel we should face?"

Leonardo frowned. "I wouldn't put it that way - you make it sound like I'm chickening out. It's just...maybe I'm just unprepared."

Raphael clicked his tongue. "Our fearless leader - unprepared?"

Not rising to the bait, Leonardo simply went on. "Yeah, Raph, it happens. The rest of you seem like you've been waiting for this day to come, ready to join the real world, but...honestly, I've never thought about it much." He sat up a bit straighter. "But you're right, Don. This type of opportunity doesn't come by every day. And Splinter always said we gotta take advantage of every opportunity." He nodded. "Let's do it."

Splinter nodded and smiled at each of them. "I am proud of each and every one of you, my sons. You have argued well. Donatello, tomorrow evening we will meet with Mr Samuels. Each of you, make sure your best clothes are clean."


	4. Four

Donatello rolled over yet again. Sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight. He decided it wasn't going to bother him, and turned his thoughts to happier things - all the stuff he'd be learning at school. He didn't know what he'd be learning, or even what school would be like, but it was fun to guess.

Leonardo's voice came quietly from above. "Don - you up?"

"Mm-hm. Can't sleep."

"Me neither. You're not upset, are you?"

"'Bout what?"

"About me. The stuff I said tonight?"

Donatello started to say no, then stopped. "Well, a bit. Y'know, I was hoping everyone would just say what a great idea it was. But Sensei'd just say that was the human in me. You...you said what needed to be said."

"Thanks. I feel like a jerk doing it sometimes."

"Someone's gotta do it."

"Yeah, but does it always have to be me?" Leonardo asked rhetorically.

Donatello grinned in the near-total darkness. "How 'bout you - you OK?"

"What?"

"With the whole thing. Maybe moving?"

"I'm...trying to get into it. I don't know. I guess I feel like we finally have our little niche here, y'know? And now it's like we're going to have to start over again."

"Not all over again. Now you know what you're good at."

"Yeah, bossing you three around."

Donatello laughed quietly. "Besides that."

"What else is there?"

"C'mon, Leo. Aren't you the best problem solver of us four? Several times we've been in scrapes and I was getting ready to give up. But you always found some screwy way out. And you're born to lead - not just us, but anyone."

"You think so?"

"Nah - I'm making it all up so you'll leave me alone." He dodged to the side as Leonardo took a swipe at him with his pillow. "Leo, it's all up from here. Maybe we won't get rich or famous, but we'll be living real lives. And that's all I really want."

* * *

Splinter hung a towel and his good kimono on the two hooks outside the doorframe. He undid the knot in his obi, slipped out of his kimono and took off his loincloth. Splinter wasn't a big fan of showers ever since his mutation (the phrase "drowned rat" often came to mind), but he decided the occasion warranted one.

It wasn't a real shower, of course, but a fairly good makeshift one. Donatello and Raphael had installed the metal grating that functioned as a floor, a good five feet over the sluice. After a close call or two, they'd also put a railing around the three sides. Donatello had jerryrigged a water heater over top, and had set up a nozzle along with two levers: one for water flow, one for heat. The water heater was pretty small - as a rule, they stole as little electricity and gas as they could - but was good for a decent five minute shower. This wasn't any trouble for the turtles, who could clean themselves completely in three minutes flat. Splinter was somewhat at a disadvantage, since shampooing his fur was a drawn-out process. After a few showers that ended a bit too briskly for his taste, he had finally figured out a rhythm.

He let the water soak into his fur for about a minute, then turned the shower off. He reached for the bottle, poured out some liquid and began lathering up. Before putting the bottle down, he studied it for a second, then shook his head. Here is something I will not miss, he thought - showering with dishwashing soap. As he turned the water back on, he smiled a bit. I hope this is not a sign of going soft, he thought. But then again, back in Japan, I did not consider bathing a luxury, but a necessity.

He finished rinsing off, and turned the water off just as it was getting cold. He removed the towel from the hook, and rubbed himself down slowly. Replacing the towel, he put on a clean loincloth, then took the good kimono down and considered it for a second. It was black with green stitching, and had been a gift from his old master back in Japan. Splinter didn't wear it often, but he did look at it from time to time - it reminded him of his master, and he drew strength from those memories. He smiled again, and slipped it over his shoulders. He tied the green obi around his waist, picked up his walking stick, and pushed the curtain aside to leave the shower room.

Immediately outside, Splinter was surprised to see Donatello kneeling on the floor. Donatello held up a roll of bandage in one hand, and indicated the bench next to him. Bowing his head, Splinter said, "Thank you, my son." He sat on the bench and held out his foot, and Donatello began to bandage it up.

"Regardless of the outcome, tonight will be a large step forward, Donatello," Splinter mused.

"How do you mean, Sensei?"

"I feel that tonight, in preparation of this next phase, we should walk topside to Mr Samuels' house."

Donatello paused, looking up at Splinter's face. "You mean...?"

"We will exit the sewers by the alley manhole, and then walk there topside."

"Wow." Donatello resumed wrapping the ankle. "Is that safe?"

"I would not suggest it if I did not believe it so. I anticipate looks, and perhaps a few comments, but nothing more serious. Besides, this would be something that we must get used to, is it not?"

"Yeah, I guess it is. And something they've got to get used to, as well."

Splinter laughed quietly. "Quite so, Donatello! The sharpness of your mind continues to impress me."

This comment made Donatello reflective. "Sensei, do you think I'm smart enough? I mean, all of us - are we smart enough to go to a human school?"

Splinter didn't answer at first, but simply considered the question. As Donatello taped the end of the bandage down, he finally said, "My son, I do not believe your intelligence - or that of your brothers - would be at issue. You will have no problems learning what is being taught. If anything, you may find the teaching to be slower than you would like. Any concerns I have are of your...social skills."

"Social skills? You mean, being polite?"

"That is part of social skills, true, but that is not where I see the problem." Splinter, with the help of Donatello, got to his feet, and after tucking his dirty clothes under his arm, they walked back to the common living area. "You have spent your entire lucid life isolated from the world. You perhaps are not aware of the many ways that humans interact. And these lessons are perhaps the most important lessons for you to learn." Smiling, Splinter added, "Despite what you might think, what is actually taught in the classrooms is only part of a school's purpose."

"Really? What else is there?"

"Everything else. School is meant not just to teach you the subjects, but also to teach you how to behave as an adult. For instance, you will be taught many different subjects, in a variety of ways, so that you'll learn many ways how to learn, if you follow."

"Oh, so like when I explain something to Raph in a different way?"

"A good example," agreed Splinter. "Assignments will be given, so that you'll learn how to budget time, and work towards a deadline. You will meet other students, from many different backgrounds - some of whom might not be friendly toward you and your brothers. However, you still must learn to get along with all of them."

"Doesn't sound that hard," mused Donatello. "We got along cool with April and Casey. And we've seen folks on TV."

Splinter slowly shook his head. "Donatello, you recall your surprise when you discovered the characters on television were not, in fact, real people?"

Donatello ducked his head, embarrassed. "C'mon, sensei, that was years ago."

"Perhaps too long ago, if the lesson has been forgotten." Splinter leaned into his room, and put down his dirty clothes. "Remember, my son, nothing on television should be taken at face value - not the characters, not the actions, nothing."

"So it's all lies, huh?"

"What you see may not be false, but it may not be true either. Television should be seen as an entertainer, not an informer."

"Hm. So you think we'll have trouble dealing with the other kids?"

"I believe it very likely, especially since several other students will doubtless have trouble dealing with you."

"Like...like bullies?" asked Donatello, remembering the term. "Heck, after taking on the Foot, some teenager won't be any problem."

"Ah, you don't see the problem, then?" As they entered the common area, Splinter raised his hands to chest height, palms up and open. The other turtles, seeing this, got up to join them. "My sons, Donatello has brought something to my attention. I expressed some concerns that perhaps all of you would have problems dealing with some of the students at a school, especially the ones that had problems dealing with you. Donatello, could you repeat what your response was?"

Embarrassed, and not sure where his mistake was, Donatello said, "Um, I just said I didn't think we'd have a problem dealing with bullies or anything, not after taking out the Foot."

Raphael nodded. "Yeah. Not that I'm looking to scrap with anybody, but I'll bet word travels fast that we're not to be messed with."

Michelangelo looked unsure. "Hm..."

Splinter encouraged, "Speak your thought, Michelangelo."

"Well, that's kinda different, isn't it?" Michelangelo said, scratching his head. "Fighting the Foot, I mean. Those were enemies that we had to defeat. Someone who calls us names in the halls or somethin', that's...well, it's not the same."

"Precisely, Michelangelo. Anyone who criticizes you at school may be an obstacle, but that does not make them an enemy. Remember, even if you fight these students and emerge victorious, they will still be people you will have to deal with every day." Suddenly, Splinter broke off. "Come, we should be on our way. We must not be late to our first appointment in years."

Splinter indicated for them to stand in the light. They lined up, and Michelangelo said, "So, do we look all right?" as Splinter considered them each in turn. No one would've considered what they wore "Sunday best", but it would have to do. They all had put on the best pair of jeans they owned (no holes, even), belted underneath their shells. Each had put on an extra-large T-shirt (the only size that fit around their shells), and Splinter was pleased to see that Raphael had not chosen one with a punk band on the front.

Smiling, Splinter said, "You look very human, my sons, although I am not sure if that is a compliment or not."

Laughing, they headed out, with Donatello leading the way with the flashlight. Raphael's voice suddenly came from the back.

"Hey, sensei, if we're not supposed to fight the bullies at school, how're we supposed to deal with them?"

"As I said, Raphael," said Splinter, speaking loud enough so those behind and in front could hear, "they should be considered obstacles, not enemies. How do you overcome an obstacle?"

All four of them quoted the Art of War together. "Go over, go under, go around, go through." 

"Excellent, my sons."

Michelangelo slowly asked, "So, what's that mean exactly? We should duck through their legs and run?"

Splinter smiled and shook his head. "I wish there were one simple answer, Michelangelo, but each situation calls for a different technique. Imagine instead that there is a large rock in your way. Some situations would call for walking around it. In others, you might go over. In still others, you might pick it up and use it in some way. Don't forget - an obstacle can become an ally."

"So - try to turn them?" asked Leonardo.

"If the situation warrants. If you feel that they could make a worthwhile ally."

Raphael snorted. "It was a lot easier when we just had to kick everyone's tail."

"Perhaps, Raphael. But life is never constant, and it is rarely easy."

Donatello paused, pointing the flashlight at the ladder. Michelangelo looked back at Splinter's shadow. "This way up?" Seeing Donatello nod, he smiled. "So close to home, too!" He began making his way up.

"Not all that close," admitted Donatello.

Leonardo paused on the bottom rung. "So, what? We're going to walk topside there?"

"That's the plan, anyway."

Turning back to the darkness, Leonardo asked, "Sensei, is this wise?"

"It is perhaps something we need to get accustomed to."

Leonardo frowned, but he started climbing up to the alley. Splinter climbed after him, followed by Raphael and Donatello. Once Donatello had replaced the manhole cover and put the flashlight on his belt, he noticed everyone was looking at him, waiting.

"So," said Michelangelo, "how do we do this?"

Splinter grasped his walking stick and smiled. "We put one foot in front of the other, my son, just like always." Everyone returned the smile, and Splinter went on. "If you will lead the way, Donatello?"

Donatello squared his shoulders and headed out the alley, with everyone else behind. After a few seconds, he heard Splinter behind him.

"We are not going off to battle, my son. Relax."

He stopped and looked down at himself. His fists were clenched, and his jaw was set. He shook his head, trying to clear it. "You're right, Sensei."

Leonardo asked, "Sensei, what if people...say things?"

"They must likely will. But what if they do? As that woman says on the television program that Raphael insists on watching, 'that's their problem'."

Raphael looked surprised. "You like that show?"

Splinter sighed. "My son, I have trained myself to find the positive in everything, including prime-time television."

Laughing, Raphael put his hand on Splinter's shoulder. "Relax, sensei. I won't let it get around."

They weren't walking as fast as they normally would - Splinter wouldn't have been able to keep up - and that worried Leonardo. He understood this was something he had to get used to, but it still made him uncomfortable. He couldn't remember the last time he had been topside without his katana strapped to his back. The sun had set, which made him feel a bit more secure, but there were plenty of lights around to illuminate them. He continually scanned the area, looking for signs of trouble.

A woman with a child came down the sidewalk towards them. When she spotted them, about half a block away, she suddenly scurried across the street.

"Oh, man," murmured Raphael.

"It is an understandable reaction, my son," said Splinter quietly. "Do not hold it against her. Let it go."

"Master, it's insulting," insisted Raphael. "How can I just let something like that go?"

"You must. You may choose to be insulted, but the action in and of itself was not insulting. Many people will feel uncomfortable in our presence. If they choose not to deal with us at all, that is their choice. You cannot force them to interact with you." Splinter slowed to put his hand on Raphael's arm. "And please keep in mind, my son - the weight of resentment is a particularly heavy one. You should not burden yourselves with it if at all possible."

Michelangelo murmured, "Well, why can't they just deal with it?"

"She did deal with it - she crossed the street."

"Sensei, that's not what I meant," said Michelangelo, somewhat exasperated.

Splinter laughed quietly. "I know, my son. I was simply making light of a serious subject." He grew more thoughtful. "Consider. You have had your entire lives to become accustomed to your appearance. The woman we just passed had perhaps three seconds. Think of April. She now treats us as if we were human, but when we first met her..."

"...she was scared out of her wits," said Leonardo with a wry smile.

"An overstatement, perhaps, but yes."

Michelangelo didn't like the implication. "So you're saying that April's no better than anyone else?"

Splinter sighed. "Do not judge her, Michelangelo, based on what she did when she first met us. Naturally, she was frightened by us on first sight. You should know that I myself was horrified by my appearance at first. However, she was forced by circumstances to assess us for a longer period of time, and she realized that we were thinking, feeling creatures - we were human. She could have continued to turn a blind eye to these characteristics, but she did not." He paused as a teenaged boy walked by, eyes large. "Good evening," Splinter added, smiling slightly.

"Uh, yeah," the boy said, and kept walking. 

"So... that's what we do? Just say hello to everyone?" asked Michelangelo.

"Or something similar. Our appearance may make people uncomfortable, but I would implore you to do everything you can to alleviate that discomfort. If you wish people to see you as human, you must give them every reason to see you as such. You must display as many positive human traits as possible."

"Like when I helped out Mr Samuels," suggested Donatello.

"Precisely. It would have been very easy for you to ignore the problem he was having - in which case we would not be out here tonight."

"Hey!" One man, sitting next to his friend on a bench across the street, yelled over at them. When they turned to look, he gave them a thumbs-up sign. "Great costumes!"

The turtles looked confused, but Splinter simply bowed towards them, smiling. "So what's that all about?" asked Raphael quietly.

"He believes we are wearing costumes. Remember, the holiday of Halloween is not far off."

"Wha-?" The turtles laughed, and Michelangelo said, "I guess it ain't worth ruining the illusion."

"Indeed, my son. Very little would be gained in explaining our situation to them. It is better to simply accept the statement as a compliment."

"Some compliment," Raphael scoffed.

"It is somewhat of a back-handed compliment, to be sure," agreed Splinter. "But again, it is easier to take it as such than to it is to take on the additional burden of resentment."

"That's it." Donatello waved in the general direction of Mr Samuels' house ahead. The rest of them gave it the once over as they approached the front gate.

"Well, you were right," said Leonardo. "It's certainly a fixer-upper."

Raphael snorted. "Since when are we afraid of a little hard work?"

"Since never," answered Leonardo, grinning.

Donatello opened the gate and led them up the front path. A light came on near the front porch, and Donatello spied Mr Samuels behind the screen door.

"Donatello?" he said, somewhat uncertainly.

"Hi, Mr Samuels. I've brought my family." He led them up to the front porch, where they all lined up beside him. Mr Samuels joined them on the porch, put on a pair of glasses and peered at each of them in turn.

"Yep, there does seem to be a family resemblance." He paused when he got to Splinter. "Well, with most of you, anyways."

Donatello tried to remember how polite people introduced each other on TV. "Mr Samuels, these are my brothers. Leonardo."

Leonardo shook his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir."

Mr Samuels smiled. "Likewise, Leonardo."

"Michelangelo."

Michelangelo grinned as he took Mr Samuels hand. "Hey, Mr Samuels!"

"Good to meet you, Michelangelo."

"...and Raphael."

Raphael tried to look pleasant, but ended up looking uncomfortable. "How you doin'."

"Just fine, Raphael."

They stepped aside to make room for Splinter, and Donatello began the introduction again.

"And this is our sensei, Hamato Yoshi."

"An honor, Mr Samuels." Splinter extended his hand. Mr Samuels regarded it for a second before clasping it.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't catch the name." 

Splinter smiled. "My given name is Hamato Yoshi, but my sons have taken to calling me Splinter. You may use that name if you wish."

"Splinter, huh? Sounds like there's a story there, but don't bother spinnin' it now." He waved them to the benches lining the porch. "Why don't you fellas have a seat. Careful, though - I don't know how sturdy these are anymore." They all sat down, with Splinter and Donatello closest to Mr Samuels. "Donatello, what did you call Splinter here? Your censor?"

They all smiled. "You're close," said Donatello. "Sensei."

Splinter added, "It is a Japanese word. It means teacher."

"So you're their teacher?"

Splinter nodded, but Donatello answered first. "He's everything to us - teacher, father, mother..."

"You've brought them up by yourself?"

Bowing slightly, Splinter responded, "I have had some assistance from some friends, but yes, I have mainly raised them alone."

Mr Samuels smiled. "Well, I've only chatted with Donatello here, but you seem to have done a damn fine job with them." Leaning forward, he grew a bit more serious. "So, Donatello here told me last night that you're looking for a new digs."

"That is correct. We feel it may be...time to move on from our present...home."

Nodding, Mr Samuels asked, "Got it. Rent getting too high?"

Raphael half-laughed. "Hardly - it's free."

"Free?" echoed Mr Samuels, eyebrows raised. "Must be a lousy place if you're looking to move out. What side of town are you on?"

Nobody answered for a second, so Michelangelo piped up. "Um, bottom?" The rest of them laughed, but Mr Samuels naturally looked confused.

"Where's that?"

"Underground," explained Donatello, pointing towards the ground. "The sewers."

Mr Samuels laughed. "Funny!" he said, then looked at Donatello's somber face. "Wait - you were kidding, right?"

"I'm afraid he was not, Mr Samuels," said Splinter. "My sons have lived down there their entire lives."

"What?!" said Mr Samuels, who still didn't sound like he believed it. "Actually in the sewers?" Seeing the nods, he added, "How can you live down there?"

"There's this area of sewers that isn't being used - water doesn't come in," explained Donatello.

"Yeah, but how?!" insisted Mr Samuels.

Splinter sighed. "It is not by choice, certainly. Some years ago, I had lost my job, and had no idea what to do next. I found my charges down in the sewer, freshly mutated, and soon after I found myself mutated as well. I had no money, I had what amounted to four newborns on my hands, and I wasn't ready to face humanity in my present state just yet. I found an unused portion of the sewer system, and we have made that our home since."

Mr Samuels looked rather uncomfortable with this information. "Well, I guess you do what you have to do."

Donatello, attempting to move the conversation ahead, said, "You see, Mr Samuels, any place is a step up for us."

"Literally," added Michelangelo.

"I know you said your place might need quite a bit of work, but that's no problem - we're not scared to get our hands dirty."

"Yeah, apparently not," said Mr Samuels. Raphael, offended, started to speak, but he saw Splinter make a quick motion with his hand. He knew what that meant - let it go. Mr Samuels continued talking, unaware of what had transpired.

"Well, you probably should see what you're getting yourselves into. I'm warning you, though - I've more or less given up housecleaning on a regular basis."

"This is perhaps where we may aid you," Splinter suggested.

"I'm counting on that, er, Splinter." Mr Samuels stood up slowly, grabbed his cane, and headed for the door. "Come take a look."

He led them into the entryway. Everyone looked around, intrigued. There was a large staircase headed up, a large but dusty living room to the left, and what was once a grand dining room to the right.

"Wow," said Michelangelo. "You've got an excellent place, Mr Samuels."

Mr Samuels looked doubtful. "Look closer there...Leonardo?"

"Michelangelo."

"Sorry - you kinda look alike."

Michelangelo smiled. "Most people can't tell us apart - well, not at first, anyway."

"Anyhow, Michelangelo, look closer. This place is a mess."

Raphael answered for him. "So what? We can whip it into shape."

Leonardo nodded. "If we can make the sewer inhabitable, think of what we can do with this place."

Smiling, Mr Samuels admitted, "You know what? I'm curious to find that out myself." He pointed his cane towards the dining room. "Kitchen's through there, 'f course. Donatello's already seen that. Got a decent-sized pantry, too; just not much in it."

"That part we're used to," Raphael added.

"Donatello said one of you was a cook...?"

"That's me," Michelangelo said.

"Don't mind cooking for one more?"

"You kidding? These guys are bored to death with my cooking - it'll be nice to cook for someone who hasn't tried it yet. Besides, I can't wait to try cooking in a real kitchen!" Michelangelo grinned. "Just lemme know what you like and don't like."

"Oh, I will - us old folks get kinda stuck in our ways. There's a fairly large bedroom down the way here." He led the way, and pointed. They took turns giving it the once over. "It'll be big enough for two of you," added Mr Samuels.

"It's bigger than any of our rooms now," pointed out Leonardo. 

"There's a bathroom next door, but I'm warning you - haven't been in it for some time. Probably needs lotsa work." They peered into the second room. "I'll show you upstairs a bit." They headed back towards the front of the house. Leonardo paused in front of a door under the staircase.

"Is this a closet?"

Mr Samuels shook his head. "Nah - it goes to the basement."

"Is there anything down there?"

"Pipes. A few old things I can't bear to part with. 's about it."

Leonardo's eyes got wide. "Really?"

"What's up?" Donatello asked.

"Dojo?" Leonard hazarded.

"Hm. Maybe."

Mr Samuels spoke up. "What're you two babbling about?"

"Oh, sorry, Mr Samuels. Splinter has been teaching us ninjitsu...martial arts, and we were just wondering if the basement would be a place we could practice."

Looking back at Splinter, Mr Samuels said in a surprised voice, "You teaching them karate?"

Splinter nodded. "Something similar. I was a martial arts teacher before I came to this country."

"Before you came to this...where you from?"

"Okinawa. Japan."

Mr Samuels grunted. "Funny. You don't look Japanese."

The turtles looked a bit shocked, but then relaxed as Splinter began laughing. "Yes, I do hide my heritage fairly well, do I not?" They all joined his laughter, then reassembled at the foot of the stairs.

"Well, let's take a look upstairs," said Mr Samuels, sounding somewhat resigned. He hooked his cane over his arm, and began climbing the steps slowly, using the banister to help pull himself up. Splinter and the turtles patiently followed behind him. When they got to the landing, Mr Samuels waved to a closed door on the right. "My room's there - got its own rest room. Rather not show it to you - it's a wreck." He turned to the left. "Two rooms over here - one's good size, the other not so. That one might be good for one. Bathroom's between. And that door down there's the linen closet." Mr Samuels smiled. "And so ends the grand tour."

Everyone turned to head back down the stairs, but Donatello was staring at one of the empty rooms, lost in thought. "Hm."

"What is it?" asked Leonardo.

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"About what?"

Donatello turned to Mr Samuels. "Did you...it's..." Donatello waved his hand. "Look, forget it."

Splinter spoke up. "Please speak, Donatello."

"It's...kinda presumptuous."

Mr Samuels smirked. "Let's see if I think it is."

Donatello sighed. "OK. Mr Samuels, did you...don't you have trouble, going up and down these steps every day?"

"Not my favorite thing to do, but I can still do it." Mr Samuels stood proudly.

"Well, I was thinking." Donatello held his hands up. "You know, if you thought it was a good idea. If you did bring us in to live with you, then maybe we could set you up in that large room downstairs. You'd still have your own bathroom, and that way you wouldn't have to deal with these steps much."

"Hm."

Michelangelo glanced downstairs, then back up. "Hey, that would sort of put us all up here, too."

Mr Samuels frowned. "You know what? You're right." Donatello smiled, and Mr Samuels went on. "That is presumptuous."

Donatello looked contrite. "Well, it was just an idea."

"And a darn good one." Mr Samuels thumped his cane on the ground. "I'd thought about moving down to that room."

"But you haven't," pointed out Leonardo.

"'f course not. I didn't have four green youngsters to move my stuff down there before."

Everyone smiled, and Splinter said, "Are you thinking that you would accept us into your household?"

Mr Samuels laughed. "You guys'd be the best thing to happen to this house in many a year. Gonna have to make some phone calls, talk to a couple people, but yeah, let's give it a whirl."

Michelangelo whooped, and the turtles exchanged high-fives. Splinter waited for them to calm down, then said, "We need to decide on rent..."

Drawing himself taller, Mr Samuels said, "I wouldn't worry about that." He looked at each of the turtles in turn. "The important thing is that you realize what you're getting into." Splinter and the turtles looked at Mr Samuels intently, and he went on. "I'm an old man. That means I'm set in my ways. I like what I like, and don't like what I don't like. One thing I don't like is a loud ruckus. You kids are gonna have to keep it down when I'm around, clear?" Everyone nodded, and Mr Samuels continued. "Also, you say you're willing to whip this old house into shape if I let you live here, and I expect you to live up to that."

Again, everyone nodded, and Donatello added, "To be honest, I'm already looking forward to what we can do with this place."

Mr Samuels smiled. "That's what I want to hear." Turning to Splinter, he said, "If you and your kids keep this place in ship-shape, I think we can dispense with any other "

Splinter shook his head. "That's very kind of you, Mr Samuels, but I'm afraid I can't accept such an offer."

"Whazzamatter? Price too steep?"

"Mr Samuels, we can not accept something for nothing."

Snorting, Mr Samuels said, "Something for nothing? You think that's what this is? Wait 'til you see how hard I work these young punks."


	5. Five

Donatello pulled a book off the rack and stared at the cover for a second. Kitchens and Bathrooms, he read to himself. He opened the book, scanned the chapter headings, then flipped to a random chapter and began skimming the text and diagrams. Yeah, this one would probably come in handy. He put it on the pile behind him and began scanning some more titles on the rack. He unconsciously picked up on someone approaching his aisle, and, out of sheer habit, looked up to see if it was a threat. Instead, he smiled.

"Ms Martinez," he said quietly.

"Why, hello there, Donatello!" Ms Martinez smiled and pulled up short next to Donatello. "How are things with you?"

"Pretty good."

Mrs Martinez stole a quick glance at the racks. "I haven't seen you over in this section in a long time." Noticing the large stack of books, she frowned. "Looks like you're having major problems at home again."

"Actually, no." Donatello leaned against the rack and smiled. "We've managed to find a new place we can move to. But my brothers and I are gonna have to do quite a bit of work to make it livable."

"So it's better than your current home?"

Donatello grinned. "Much better." His smile faded and he sighed, tapping the stack of books he created. "It ain't gonna be easy, though."

"Nothing good ever is, Donatello."

Part of his smile returned. "You sound like Splinter." Shaking his head, he added, "But it's a huge project. Just looking at these books is making me tired. Makes me wonder if we should just stay where we are."

Ms Martinez tilted her head. "But I thought you didn't like where you were living now."

Donatello shrugged. "It's not that bad, I guess."

Tilting her head slightly, Mrs Martinez said, "If I didn't know you any better, Donatello, I'd say it sounds like you're looking to take the easy way out."

"Guilty." Donatello rubbed his eyes. "It's...well, it's not the home improvement stuff, I guess. I'm pretty sure we can handle that. It's what comes after."

"What comes after?"

"Real life. You know, school, work, the whole nine yards."

"And you don't want that?"

Donatello shook his head. "That's just it. That's exactly what I want. It's what I've wanted for years." He shrugged and smiled. "Careful what you wish for, I guess."

"Having second thoughts?"

"No, it's just..." He sighed and put a book back on the shelf. "I guess it was a lot easier to talk about it before there was actually a chance to do it. Plus, it's one thing to want something, but another to have to give up everything you've got in order to get it."

"But your brothers are moving in with you, correct? And Splinter?"

"Well, yeah..." Donatello smiled and looked at Mrs Martinez. "So I guess I'm not giving up anything important, am I?"

"Nothing too important, anyway."

Donatello nodded. "You're right." He grabbed his stack of books and gave Mrs Martinez a small bow. "Thank you, Mrs Martinez."

* * *

Casey uncertainly took a look around the kitchen and crossed his arms. "You sure got yourself one heck of a project, frog face."

Raphael took another bite of his apple and nodded. Swallowing, he said, "No kidding. And we're all chompin' at the bit to get started."

"Where's everyone else?"

"Don gave us all paper an' pencils." Raphael indicated his, sticking out of his jeans' pocket. "We're s'posed to be going all over the house, finding everything that needs work, so we can make a master list."

"That's gonna be one long list." Raphael just shrugged, and took another bite. Casey shook his head. "Well, as long as you know what you're in for."

"Live in the sewers awhile, bench warmer, and you'll see it ain't no big deal. You'd do anything to get out. This ain't nothin'."

Leonardo walked in from the dining room, scribbling a note onto his piece of paper. Looking up, he spotted Casey and smiled. "Hey, Casey."

"Hey yourself."

As Raphael threw away his apple core, Leonardo stretched his arms out, indicating the entire house. "So? What do you think?"

Smiling, Casey said diplomatically, "Well, I think real estate agents would say it has 'potential'."

Leonardo nodded. "Yeah, we know. That's why we were wondering if you could help out."

Casey frowned. As much as he liked the turtles, he wasn't really looking to give up all his spare time for the next six months. "How?"

"A couple things." Leonardo began tapping the pencil against the side of his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "I may as well ask the toughest one first. Could you take Mr Samuels in for a night?"

"Wha-? What for?"

"Roaches," answered Raphael. "We've got hundreds of 'em here, so we gotta roach-bomb the place before we do anything else."

Leonardo went on. "That means we have to find another place for Mr Samuels for at least twenty-four hours, and I don't think we can get him down into the sewers."

"Wouldn't be very nice for him, either," added Raphael.

"Hm. I guess we could work something out. Gotta check with April, though."

"Of course you do." Raphael mimicked pulling a leash on his collar, then flinched and smiled as Casey mock-punched him. Turning to Leonardo, he said, "I'm heading back upstairs. Holler if you need anything."

"Sure thing, Raph. Thanks." Leonardo watched him walk out, then turned back to his list. "Let's see. If you could triple-check the list we come up - see if we left something obvious out...?"

Casey nodded. "Done."

"And could you do our actual buying for us?"

"Buying? Buy what?"

"Paint, wood, cleaning supplies, and whatever else we come up with. Mr Samuels says you can get cash from him before you go pick up anything."

Casey leaned against the wall and nodded. "No problem on that, then. But I thought you guys were gonna start facing the masses. How come one of you can't do it?"

Leonardo smiled. "We had a discussion about that last night. Splinter thought we should keep it low-key. He's worried about what people might think if a group of mutants walked into Home Depot and bought hundreds of dollars worth of stuff. They might think something was up. Besides home renovation, I mean."

"Hm." Casey hadn't thought of that. "Well, he's the boss, I guess."

"Yeah, and he's usually right, too."

* * *

Michelangelo stood on the creaky back steps and tested the banisters. They weren't incredibly sturdy, but possibly they were good enough. They could definitely use a new coat of paint, though. He brought the paper out of his pocket, and carefully wrote "bk strs - paint/reinf?" on it. With school now a big possibility in their future, Splinter had suggested Michelangelo work on his handwriting. Michelangelo never had a problem reading what he had written, but everyone else usually had to ask him to interpret.

Folding the paper back up, he stuck it in his pocket. He stepped down off the staircase and surveyed the backyard, such as it was, looking for items to add to the list. Two smallish trees, which were so barren of leaves that Michelangelo guessed they were beyond hope. A three-foot-high chain link fence, still in decent shape. A few scraggly bushes. What was possibly once a garden in the corner, along with a broken-down tool shed. An old stump. No doubt about it - this area was going to need a complete overhaul.

Suddenly, without thinking, Michelangelo adopted a defensive pose and swung around. Upon seeing his would-be adversaries, he smiled. A girl, around eight years old, and a boy a few years younger were staring at him from the yard next door. Michelangelo, remembering Splinter's lessons, decided to give them a try. He smiled at the two and said, quietly, "Hi."

The boy turned to the girl. "See? I told you he could talk."

Michelangelo grinned. "Of course I can talk."

The girl sputtered, "B-but you're a tur..." She stopped cold, but Michelangelo took it in stride.

"A turtle? Yeah. But I'm a big turtle. The kind that walks on two legs, and wears clothes and talks." He grinned. "There aren't a lot of us, but I'm one of them." He walked a bit closer, but decided against walking right up to them. "My name's Mike. What's your name?"

The girl looked hesitant, but the boy blurted out, "I'm Austin."

Once the girl saw her brother state his name, she decided she may as well say hers, too. "Sarah."

"Hi, Austin. Hi, Sarah. Good to meet ya." Michelangelo indicated Mr Samuels' house. "We're gonna be moving in to this place soon, so I guess we'll be neighbors, huh?"

"Sarah! Austin!" A woman's voice came from inside the next house, followed soon by the woman herself. "There you are. We're going to be late..." She followed their gaze into the next yard. "Oh my God," she said, putting her hands to her mouth.

Michelangelo, as Splinter had trained him, kept smiling. "Hi," he said, quietly.

"Oh my God, what do you want?!" the woman demanded.

"Nothing." Michelangelo jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the house behind him. "We're moving in, and I was just introducing myself to..."

"Moving in? Here? Next door?!"

"Yeah. I saw your kids there, so I was just saying hi."

The woman violently grabbed her kids' wrists. "You stay away from my children, you understand me?"

Michelangelo frowned a bit. "Ma'am, I was just saying hello."

Raphael came down the steps. "What's going on?"

"Oh, God, there's two of them!" The woman backed up a step.

Raphael grinned. He always seemed to exhibit a sort of perverse satisfaction when people were horrified at their appearance. "Nope," he said, holding up all his fingers. "There's four of them!"

Michelangelo sighed. "Look, ma'am, your kids were sort of staring at me, so I was just trying to put them at ease."

"What's wrong with them staring?" demanded the woman.

"I know. It's only natural, so I was trying to..."

Raphael put his hand on Michelangelo's shoulder. "Mikey, don't waste your breath. Head on in - Splinter wants ya."

Michelangelo took another look at the kids - shame to have such a suspicious mother, he thought. "So long," he said to them, waving slightly at them before he headed up the steps.

"Bye, Mike," said Austin quietly.

"Austin, listen to me." His mother dropped to one knee and pointed at him. "You are not to talk to them - do you understand?!"

"But why?" Austin pouted.

"Never mind why," began his mother.

"Yeah, don't bother thinkin' - just hate us," Raphael sneered.

"Raphael!" Everyone looked up at the kitchen door where Master Splinter stood. He stood looking down at the backyard scene with his walking stick planted firmly on the ground. "Raphael, you will go into the living room and await me there."

Raphael looked indignant for a second, then sighed. He could tell Splinter was majorly pissed, and he had learned - through many mistakes - that it was useless to argue at times like this. He turned to Splinter, bowed formally, then headed up the stairs, two at a time.

Splinter stepped aside to allow him to enter the kitchen, then he turned back to the woman. Bowing very low, he said, "Please accept my apology upon my son's behalf. He should know better."

The woman, still agog at all the strange creatures next door, did soften slightly upon hearing the apology. "Look, I don't want any of you..." She stopped before saying "freaks", then continued. "...any of you over in my yard."

"Of course not," said Splinter quietly. "Neither myself nor my sons would ever do such a thing." He indicated the backyard. "We may be doing some work out in this area, but rest assured we shall not enter your property. And I will warn my sons not talk to your children, if that's what you wish."

"Well...good," said the woman, uncertainly.

Splinter bowed again, then re-entered the house, making his way into the living room. He found Raphael there, pacing nervously. Splinter took a seat in an old faded easy chair, then indicated the space in front of him. Raphael exhaled loudly, then sat, formal-style, on the floor in front of him, bowing his head down.

Splinter regarded his son for a few seconds before speaking. Finally, he said, "Raphael." Splinter waited for Raphael to look up at him before going on. "Explain to me why I am upset with you."

Raphael sighed. "I was mouthing off to the humans again."

"That is correct, as far as that goes. But I am especially upset at your behavior today. Why is that?"

Raphael wasn't expecting that question. Wracking his brain, he tried to come up with the right answer. "Um, because now that we're gonna be living topside, I've gotta get along with everybody?" he hazarded.

Splinter shook his head. "No. You are not too far off the mark, however. Consider: who is that woman with whom you were speaking?"

"Who...was she? I don't know."

"Well, then, where does she live?"

"Next door." Slowly, Raphael began to understand.

"How often do you believe we will be seeing her?"

"Um...a lot?"

"That is very likely. Unlike most of the humans you have...exchanged words with, this is someone who we will most likely be interacting with quite a bit." Splinter paused as Raphael hung his head. It was clear that he hadn't thought of that. Splinter continued, "This is a most unfortunate way of introducing ourselves to our neighbors."

"But she was tellin' her kids not to talk to us!" protested Raphael.

"And what if she was?" Splinter paused to let him think about that for a second, then went on. "Raphael, you know very well that some humans will want nothing to do with us. And certainly you know that a point of view such as hers cannot be altered quickly, and it most definitely will not be altered through the use of sarcastic comments."

Raphael sighed. "You're right. Sorry. Guess I messed up again."

"Indeed."

"So," said Raphael, glancing back up. "How are we supposed to change her mind?"

"Perhaps we cannot, my son.. All we can do is continue to be polite towards her. Perhaps she will soften towards us, or perhaps her children will not pick up on her prejudice. We can but try."

"So Mikey's got the right idea," said Raphael, almost as a question.

"Michelangelo usually does. This is why he has so few problems dealing with people. You can perhaps take a lesson from this." Splinter picked up his walking stick and got to his feet. Smiling slightly, he said, "The lecture is over. Please return to your work." As Raphael got to his feet, he added, "However, this evening, during personal time, you will remain in your room and meditate on what you have learned."

Raphael sighed. No hockey for him tonight.


	6. Six

Michelangelo took the lid off the pot, glanced at the boiling pasta, then replaced the lid.

"So, what's new?" asked Raphael, smiling.

Michelangelo looked over at Raphael, who was methodically chopping onions. None of the others could understand why Raphael never teared up while doing this, but once it was clear that he seemed to be immune, Michelangelo always asked him to do it.

"What do you mean?" asked Michelangelo.

Raphael pointed at the pasta pot with his knife. "That's the fifth time you've peeked inside. Anything different?"

Michelangelo sighed. "No."

Growing a bit serious, Raphael said, "What's the problem?"

"You know. First meal for Mr Samuels. I want it to be perfect."

"No, you don't."

"Huh?"

Grinning, Raphael said, "If it was perfect, he'll expect that every time."

Michelangelo half-returned the smile. "Hey, I never thought of that. Maybe I should sabatoge it."

"Well, that might be a bit extreme."

"Yeah," Michelangelo said, his smile fading. "It's...I don't know. I just feel like the whole thing's coming down to me. And if for some reason, we don't end up living here, it'll be my fault."

Raphael snorted as he stood up and carried the chopping board full of cut onions to a simmering pot of sauce. "C'mon, Mikey, you know us better than that." His eyes got larger, an open question to Michelangelo - "put these in here?" Michelangelo nodded, and Raphael slid the onions into the pot.

"I don't even think it'll matter what you guys think," said Michelangelo, stirring the sauce. "No matter what you say, or anyone else says, I'll keep thinking that things woulda turned out OK if only I'd..."

Michelangelo paused, and Raphael finished, "...made pizza or something?"

Looking down at the sauce, Michelangelo quietly commented, "You make it sound so dumb."

Raphael considered as he washed off the chopping board. "Well, I don't know about 'dumb', really. But you know Splinter's got a term for what you're doing."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think he'd classify it as 'worrying ahead of the fact'."

Michelangelo sighed and nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. That doesn't mean I can help doing it, though." He lifted the lid on the pasta pot and looked in once again. This time, he picked up a fork and stabbed one of the ravioli dancing around inside. "Looks like it's done. You want to round up the troops?"

"Sure thing." Raphael started heading out towards the living room, but stopped behind Michelangelo. After hesitating a moment, he put his hand on Michelangelo's shoulder. "Listen," he said quietly. "the biggest failure ya ever cooked was still better than the best thing any o' the rest of us ever came up with."

Michelangelo stared at Raphael for a second, then grinned. Raphael punched him lightly on the shoulder and went into the living room. Leonardo and Donatello were sitting on the couch, watching quietly as Splinter told Mr Samuels the story of how they ended up fighting the Foot clan. They knew the entire story, of course - they were there - but Splinter was a master storyteller, and even they got caught up in the tale. Raphael would've suffered the same fate had Splinter not paused and turned to him.

"Yes, my son?" he said, quietly.

"Oh, sorry," said Raphael, coming back to himself. "Dinner's about ready."

Splinter bowed slightly towards him. "Thank you, my son." Turning back to Mr Samuels, he said, "It would appear that I must finish this story at a later time."

Mr Samuels smiled. "Don't be so sure. That's an incredible yarn you're spinnin', and I hate to put it aside now."

Smiling, Splinter said, "I am honored that you feel so. However, Michelangelo's cooking is not to be missed. Let us go eat, and I will complete the story afterwards."

"Well, so be it." Mr Samuels pulled himself to his feet, picked up his cane, and led everyone into the dining room. As everyone sat down, Raphael disappeared back into the kitchen, then re-emerged with a salad bowl. Right behind him came Michelangelo with a large steaming tureen.

"Hope you're hungry," said Michelangelo, placing the tureen on a trivet in the center of the table. "I made ravioli a la Michelangelo. Which sounds a lot more Italian than it actually is."

Mr Samuels patiently watched as Michelangelo scooped out a large plateful of ravioli, then placed it in front of him, along with a small plate of salad. He picked up his fork, eyeing his portion carefully. He cut a pillow in half with the side of his fork, speared it, and brought it to his mouth. Suddenly, he looked over at everyone else at the table. Everyone had stopped, waiting for him to take his first bite. "What?" he demanded.

Michelangelo said, "Uh, sorry, Mr Samuels. I...we're all just really hoping you like it."

"Hm. Well, no need to keep you in suspense." He put the food in his mouth and began chewing. After he swallowed, he took another bite, and then another one.

Raphael couldn't stand the suspense. "Well?" he asked.

Swallowing his bite, Mr Samuels looked over at Raphael. "Don't bother me, son. Cantcha see I'm eatin'?"

Michelangelo breathed out audibly as Donatello asked, "I take it that means you like it?"

Mr Samuels smiled as he took his fourth bite, which prompted the mutants to pick up their forks and join in.

Conversation became more relaxed as the meal progressed. Mr Samuels paused on occasion to praise Michelangelo's meal, until Michelangelo felt quite embarassed. He felt better once Mr Samuels turned his attention to Splinter.

"Well, how 'bout pickin' up where you left off on that little tale you were telling?"

Splinter declined. "I believe it is a tale best told away from the dinner table," he explained.

Grunting, Mr Samuels said, "Well, if you say so. Between your stories and Michelangelo's cooking, you're gonna have me completely giving up frozen dinners in front of the TV. Heck, you're gonna have me giving up frozen dinners and TV, period."

"Mr Samuels," said Splinter, in a voice that sounded rather serious. Suddenly, the chatter between the turtles died down, as they turned to stare at their teacher. Splinter kept his eyes on Mr Samuels as he continued. "I do not wish to be presumptuous, but several of your comments tonight seem to indicate you anticipate us being here for the foreseeable future."

Mr Samuels opened his eyes wide. "You ain't thinkin' of backin' out on me, are ya?"

Splinter shook his head and smiled. "Not at all. But recall. When my sons began work on this place, you said you would 'see how it goes.' Are you unhappy with the arrangement thus far?"

"Unhappy?" repeated Mr Samuels. "Far from it! This place has never looked better."

"And so...you would not object to us moving in?"

Mr Samuels put his fork down and stared at Splinter. "So that's it, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

"I was wondering why you guys hadn't started moving your stuff in yet. You waiting for a formal invitation?"

Splinter held up his hand. "We did not wish to presume..."

"Presume? What the heck's so presumptious? You fellas took this home from squalor to splendor in two weeks flat. What kind of guy would I be if I shut you out in the cold?" He pointed at each of them in turn. "Starting tomorrow, you start bringing your stuff in. That's an order."

The turtles whooped as Splinter bowed towards Mr Samuels. "Thank you, Mr Samuels." he said sincerely. "I will see to it that you do not regret your decision."

Michelangelo grinned. "Heck, I can do that right now. Raph, help me bring in dessert, would ya?"

* * *

Splinter stood in the middle of his room and considered. Most of his belongings were now upstairs, but he had them all in the corner, and now needed to figure out where to put them. Where would be the ideal place in here for painting? Presumably between the two windows, where he'd get the most natural light during the day. Splinter began setting up his easel when he heard excited talking coming from the room next door. Grabbing his walking stick, he headed out into the hallway. He only caught a few phrases here and there - "If you ask me...", "Not after that time...", "Dude, no way" - before he entered the room, and found all four turtles engaged in something between a discussion and an argument..

"Quiet, my sons. Quiet down," said Splinter, holding up his hands. Once there was silence, Splinter went on. "Do not forget - we no longer live alone. There is another to think of."

"Sorry, sensei," said Leonardo for the group.

"Now, what appears to be the problem?"

Raphael spoke first. "We're tryin' to figure out who's gonna get the big room down the hall - me an' Mike, or Leo an' Don."

Splinter regarded Raphael for a long time without speaking. Then, instead of responding, moved further into the room and looked out the window. The turtles watched him in confusion. After a short pause, Leonardo walked next to him and put his hand on Splinter's shoulder. "Sensei, what's wrong?"

Splinter looked at Leonardo for a second, then shook his head sadly. "You have heard me say that all of life is illusion, and illusion leads to suffering."

Raphael shuffled his feet. "So...what you're sayin' is it doesn't matter who gets the room, huh?"

"No," said Splinter. "Well, yes, you are correct - in the grand scheme of things, it in fact does not matter. But that is not what I was thinking about." Again, he turned to face out the window. "While we lived in the sewers, you always shared what we had, with very little disagreement. It would appear that I had deluded myself that this was because you were in fact free from greedp And I further deluded myself into thinking that I was responsible for this."

Leonardo, sensing a lesson, knelt down in front of Splinter, and the other turtles followed suit. Leonardo said, "I'm sorry, Sensei. We've let you down, haven't we?"

Splinter turned to face them, and smiled slightly. "No, my son. You have not let me down at all. It is myself whom I have failed. Greed is a normal, natural human emotion - one that should be kept in check, but natural nonetheless. I do not blame you for having the emotion. I blame myself for believing you did not possess it. It is very simple to not fight over things, when there is nothing to fight over. Now that we are somewhat more comfortable in our position, I should have anticipated it." Shaking his head, he went on. "This does not matter. A lesson learned late is still a lesson learned. Let us turn to your problem - who is to occupy which room."

Splinter paused to allow his sons to discuss the problem, but suddenly all four turtles were avoiding his eyes, mostly staring down at their feet. After a short time, Splinter said, "Does no one wish to begin?"

Raphael blurted out, "Well, we can't hardly start talking about it now, can we?"

"What do you mean, my son?"

"Well, after kinda saying it was all greed an' everything..."

Splinter smiled. "Understood. However, even though this may be unimportant in the long run, it would be wise to discuss it, so everyone feels that it was made correctly. Does anyone have any comments to make regarding the rooms?"

The turtles continued to say nothing, but at least now they were looking at each other. Finally, Leonardo broke the silence. "Donatello," he said quietly. Donatello looked at him expectantly, and Leonardo went on. "You don't have a place for your workbench, do you?"

"Well, I was thinking I could get it downstairs with the dojo."

"Things are kind of tight down there already, aren't they?"

Donatello shrugged. "I can make it fit."

Shaking his head, Michelangelo said, "Nah, forget it. I say you 'n' Leo get the big room, and put your workbench in there."

Leonardo nodded. "Exactly what I was thinking."

One by one, the turtles and Splinter turned to face Raphael, who smirked. "What? You think I'm gonna throw a hissy fit about this?"

"I do not know," said Splinter. "Are you adequately prepared to throw a hissy fit?"

The turtles laughed, and Raphael said, "Nah, I'll save it for a better occasion. Fine, we'll take this room."

"Excellent," said Splinter, smiling. "And if you will aid Donatello in carrying his work things up to the room?"

Leonardo nodded. "No problem - we're on it."

* * *

"I'd like to know that your love..." Michelangelo went up on his tiptoes, and just managed to slip the large pot up on the top shelf of the cupboard. He closed the door, then picked up the colander. Scrunching his face, he looked around the kitchen, trying to find a place for it. Even though most of the mutants' things had been moved in, Splinter continued to force the pace. He didn't want them slacking off leaving jobs half-done. So the turtles were spread out across the house, putting stuff away and doing final clean-up. Absently, Michelangelo continued singing along to the radio. "...is a love I can be sure of..."

Donatello came in, smiling. "So tell me now, then I'll leave you alone..." he sang.

Michelangelo frowned. "That's not how it goes."

"I know - I forgot the words. How ya doin'?"

"Dude, I can't believe how quick this is going. Already got most of the kitchen stuff put away. Looks like we got some doubles, though - probably don't need two of these puppies." He spun the the colander around in his hands. "Maybe we can get rid of one."

"Hard to believe that we, of all people, would have an extra anything," Donatello said, smiling. "Better check with Splinter first, though."

"Oh, I will. Don't worry."

Donatello held up a newspaper. "Just finished my break - thought you might want to take your fifteen minutes now."

"Sure, why not? Thanks." He grabbed the paper and sat at the kitchen table, as Donatello grabbed the broom.

"OK if I take this?"

Donatello nodded. "No problem. Bring it back."

"Gotcha." Donatellol ducked out.

Humming to himself, Michelangelo opened the paper and started scanning. He wasn't looking for anything in particular - good deals on food in the ads, an interesting article, whatever. It was very rare for them to get a newspaper the day it was printed, and Michelangelo still felt a bit odd - like he was looking at something he shouldn't.

He glanced through the sports section, reading the headlines, checking the scores. Suddenly, his eyes were drawn to the word "karate" in a small ad at the bottom of the page. He read it over three times, then, taking a quick glance around to see if anyone else was watching, he ripped the bottom of the page out of the paper, and stuffed it in his pocket.


	7. Seven

"You set for this?" Casey shifted the package under his arm, and half-heartedly pushed his hair back into place.

"Of course. Would you relax?" April pulled Shadow up into her arms a bit and rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, Michelangelo opened the door and grinned. "Hey! Good to see ya! Come on in." He pushed the door open and waved them inside. He leaned down a bit to peer at Shadow as April brought her closer.

"Hey, microdudette!" He wiggled two fingers at her, and Shadow shrieked in delight. No one knew why Shadow loved Michelangelo so much, but April and Casey didn't really care, so long as it meant they had a babysitter they knew she'd love having.

Mr Samuels was chatting with Kia, but stopped when he saw April enter with Shadow. "Ah, at last - the cute one of the family."

April laughed. "That's for sure - this is Shadow." She held her up towards Mr Samuels, and with mock gravity he shook her hand.

"Very pleased to meet you, my dear."

"Wow - she's cute, April," added Kia.

"Thanks, Kia," April smiled.

Casey looked uncomfortable. He hated parties. All the talk was always so phony. Raphael, noting his facial expression, broke away from Splinter and walked over.

"Nice game by your Chargers Sunday."

Casey managed to look both relieved and upset. "Oh, sure, bring that up."

"I have to. If I keep it down, I'll die."

"Horrible. It's like they wanted to show me just how much they sucked."

"You didn't put anything down on it, didja?"

"I wanted to, but remembered what you said...and what I promised April. Thanks. You saved me a hundred."

Raphael grinned. "My fee's twenty percent."

Casey returned the smile. "It's in the mail."

"Liar. Want a drink?" Raphael held his glass of soda up.

"You pansies don't have beer, do you?"

"Maybe we do. Sure you don't gotta ask the boss lady first?" He nodded his head over towards April, smiling. "Let's see what we can round up for you." They headed for the kitchen, but moved aside to let Donatello out, who was carrying a cup of hot tea for Splinter.

"Thanks." Donatello put the cup and saucer on the table next to Splinter.

"Thank you, my son."

"Is this all you drink, Splinter?" asked Mr Samuels. "Tea?"

"Most of the time, yes. There was a time I only drank Japanese green tea, so I suppose I'm expanding my horizons slowly." Splinter smiled.

Mr Samuels grunted at Donatello. "Shouldn't you make him try something different?"

The doorbell interrupted Donatello's reply. "Oops - hold on a sec." As he walked to the door, he wondered, who's left? Us five, Mr Samuels, Kia, Mondo...he hadn't finished mentally going through the list before he reached the door and opened it. Glancing at the visitor on the doorstep, he flinched, but managed to maintain his cool.

"Oh, hey, um...Don'tello, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

Rocksteady grinned toothily. "I knew I'd start rememb'rin' which o' yous was which. Leonardo here?"

"Sure, sure, come on in." Donatello stepped aside to let the large mutant pass. Rocksteady ducked under the doorframe, and glanced around as Michelangelo shut the door.

"Wow, yous got a nice house!"

"Thanks. Party's in here." He led him into the living room where all conversation suddenly stopped, making the Miles Davis disc suddenly seem a lot louder.

"Everybody, this is Rocky," Donatello began, remembering to use the name Rocksteady preferred now. He spun around, and ticked off a few people. "You know Raph, Splinter, April, Casey, Mike and Leo." Splinter half-bowed, Raph smirked, but the rest gave a half-wave. "I don't know if you know Mondo and Kia."

Rocky tilted his head a little. "Are you the guys what's in the band?"

Kia just stared, but Mondogecko nodded. "Yeah - Diablizard."

"I see you up on the signs 'round town, but I keep forgettin' to go see yous. Sorry."

"That's cool."

Donatello completed the introductions. "And this is Mr Samuels."

"You the one what owns this place?"

"Y-yes," said Mr Samuels, uncertainly. Rocksteady made no motion to come shake his hand, which Mr Samuels was very grateful for.

"It's really neat! I like these old places."

"Well, uh, thank you."

Scanning the room one more time, he spied the baby in April's arms. "Hey, I didn't know you twos had a kid!"

April swallowed, and smiled. "Yes. Her name is Shadow." Steeling herself, she continued, "Um, did you want to see her?" She prepared herself to hand off her child to the 450-pound mutant.

"Nah - little kids always start screamin' when they see me. Big kids, too. And some grown-ups." Rocky glanced down at the envelope in his hand. "Oo, Leonardo! I got you something for your birthday." He half-walked, half-stomped over to where Leonardo was sitting. "Happy birthday!" he announced, and handed the envelope to him.

Leonardo took the envelope, and managed to make his smile seem non-condescending. "Thanks, Rocky. You didn't have to do that."

"Just wanted you to know there's no hard feelings or nuttin." Excitedly, he sort of danced in place. "Go ahead! Open it! Open it!"

Leonardo looked around to gauge reactions - they were more or less planning to open presents later on, after dinner. Seeing Splinter nod, he smiled at Rocky and tore the envelope open. He reached in and pulled out a smaller envelope. Examining the contents, his face took on a puzzled look.

"What is it?" asked Michelangelo.

"Gift certificates." read Leonardo.

April smiled. "To where?"

Leonardo glanced up, still looking somewhat puzzled. "McDonald's." Raphael laughed once, but Splinter touched his shoulder, which silenced him. Managing a smile, Leonardo added, "You know, I've never actually eaten at McDonald's, Rocky."

"Oo, then you gotta try it! The Big Mac is really really good! Except it ain't that big, so you gotta order four or five of 'em."

"I'll certainly try it." Leonardo held the gift certificates to his forehead, a gesture of thanks he picked up from Splinter. "Thank you very much."

"No problem, Leonardo. You know, no hard feelings. I can't really stay, though - I'm gonna go visit BeBop, then I promised the guys from work that I'd pick up some beer and watch a game with 'em."

Splinter asked, "How is BeBop?"

Rocky turned to him and shrugged. "He's OK, I guess. Looks like he might be outta jail in May 'f he keeps 'is nose clean. He says once he's out, he's goin' straight like me."

Giving a slight bow, Splinter remarked, "You have done an admirable job reforming, Rocky."

"Aw, it ain't that hard, actually - my boss now is tons nicer'n Shredder ever was."

Donatello started walking toward the door. "Well, thanks for stopping by..."

"No problem. Goodbye, everybody!" He waved excitedly to everyone in the room, then walked out with Donatello.

Mr Samuels sighed, then turned to Leonardo. "Don't you know anyone..."

"...normal?" finished Kia, smirking.

Splinter smiled. "Mutants tend to find solace with other mutants."

"Even ones that used to clobber you on a regular basis," added Michelangelo.

Mondogecko looked intrigued. "Clobber...what do you mean?"

Michelangelo nodded. "Rocksteady there used to be Shredder's right-hand mutant. Him and Be-bop and us used to mix it up pretty often."

Mondogecko looked shocked. "That's Rocksteady?"

Nodding, Michelangelo grabbed some chips for a bowl nearby. "Uh-huh. He's gone straight."

Mr Samuels shook his head. "Who would possibly hire him?"

Donatello came back in with a six-pack of soda. "Strip club. I can't remember the name. Kitty Cat Corner or something. He's the bouncer."

"Hm. Makes sense."

Raphael laughed and shook his head. "McDonald's gift certificates."

Splinter, shaking his head slightly, said, "My son, there is an excellent phrase involving gift-giving - 'it is the thought that counts.' Perhaps it was not the perfect gift for Leonardo, but he did think of him - and spent his own earned money to purchase something for him. Would you have thought such a thing was possible, as recently as last year?"

Donatello laughed. "The only thing we used to get from him was a telephone pole to the face."

Holding up his hands, Raphael said, "Point made." He half-bowed to Splinter. "Thank you, sensei."

Snorting, Mr Samuels said, "Geez. Even during parties, there's a lesson."

Michelangelo shrugged. "Always more to learn." He finished off his chips, then turned back to Leonardo. "Since you've gotten a head start on the gift opening, you wanna finish it off?"

Leonardo looked around the room, with a "well?" look on his face. Casey picked up the box and envelope, walked over and placed them in his lap. "Gotta show you we've got better taste than Rocksteady."

Michelangelo quickly said, "We all pitched in to get you this."

April added, "The box is from us. Maybe you should open that first."

Upon seeing the nodding from several in the room, Leonardo put the envelope aside and began opening the box. Once the lid was off, he stared into the box for a second, not quite understanding what he saw. Finally, he reached inside and withdrew a large grey piece of cloth. He turned it over in his hands, and finally held it up correctly.

"It's...it's a karate uniform."

April said, "In your size, no less."

"Not the easiest thing to find," added Casey, smiling.

"That's...it's great! I've always wanted one." Leonardo held it up. "Sensei - it has your crest on it!"

Splinter bowed. "I am honored to have you wear it, my son."

Leonardo just stared at it for a while. This was something he never expected, and he was surprised by how much it affected him. "Thank you," he finally said, quietly.

Michelangelo urged him. "Hey, open ours now."

"Oh. Right." He put the karate uniform carefully on his lap, then picked up the envelope. He ripped the end off, then slid out the contents. Unfolding the papers, he began reading them to himself. After a few seconds, he looked up. If he looked puzzled earlier, he looked completely flummoxed now.

"Read it out loud," suggested Donatello.

Looking back down, Leonardo began reciting. "Leonardo Hamato, this letter confirms your payment for entry in the Greater New York City Karate Competition for November 17. Enclosed please find a schedule, along with your draw number...what is this?"

Raphael leaned over the back of a chair. "Remember wishing you could spar with someone besides us four? Well, you got your wish."

Michelangelo grinned. "We enrolled you in a karate competition. Think you're up to it?"

Leonardo just stared at the paper, then finally looked up at Splinter. "A karate competition! Sensei, do you feel I'm ready for this?"

Smiling slightly, Splinter said, "My son, I would not have consented to your enrollment if I did not think you were up to the challenge."

"You really think I can win?"

"I do not know your chances of winning, Leonardo. But that is not why we enrolled you. You wished to spar with someone outside your family. Even if you lose your first bout, you will have at least faced a new opponent, and hopefully learned something as well."

Leonardo slipped to the floor, went into a kneeling position, and bowed, holding the paper to his forehead. "Thank you, everybody. I hope I prove worthy."

Mondogecko laughed. "Hey, lessons are fine 'n' all, but no getting all formal during a party!" He nodded towards Donatello, who was next to the stereo, and tossed a CD to him. "Fresh from Diablizard Studios. If that don't get the party out of formal mode, nothing will."


	8. Eight

Donatello looked at Michelangelo expectantly. "You ready?"

"You know I am," pointed out Michelangelo. "But are you?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. Let's do it." Donatello opened the front door and let Michelangelo walk out in front of him. The inside of the house was all squared away, and Leonardo and Raphael were trying to tackle the backyard (after Raphael had been issued a stern warning not to talk to the neighbors again). That left the front, an area they had been semi-subconsciously avoiding. Not because of the work - they were pretty sure they could handle that. Rather, it was the fact that they would be on open view for the entire neighborhood while they did it. Their encounter with their next-door neighbor didn't exactly raise their expectations, either.

So after a brief discussion, Splinter decided to have Donatello and Michelangelo work out front. "I believe you two have the most even temperaments," he had said, "and would best be able to handle any situations that might arise." Such a comment obviously didn't make either of them look forward to the task, but as Michelangelo pointed out, "We gotta start facing the world sometime."

There were plenty of chores that needed to be done to the front of the house, but several of them - reseeding the lawn, repainting the house - they had decided to forgo for now. One thing that definitely needed to be done was to replace the banister leading up the steps of the lawn - the old metal one was about to fall apart - so Donatello and Michelangelo decided to tackle that first. After a nervous look around, they dug in and got to work. Things progressed surprisingly quickly and smoothly. A few passing cars and pedestrians had stared briefly, but then moved on. Donatello began wondering if perhaps they were worrying for nothing.

They had finished ripping out the rickety banister, and had begun digging holes to put the new one in, when Michelangelo spied Austin, Sarah and their mother leaving their house. Michelangelo avoided staring, but he did smile at the kids as they got in their car. Donatello, noticing this, hissed quietly, "Hey! Splinter said don't talk to them!"

"I'm not talking to them," said Michelangelo, just as quietly, still smiling. "I'm just smiling at them."

As the car drove off, Michelangelo returned to his shovel. Donatello asked, "Why do you bother?"

"Because it's not fair to them," he said, wiping his forehead. "It's not their fault their mother don't get it. I want to show them that we're OK guys, no matter what their mother says."

"You really think you can change their mind?"

"Probably not," admitted Michelangelo. "But it might make them think about it some."

Donatello considered that as he got back to work sanding the wooden posts. Maybe Michelangelo had a point. Maybe some of his seeds of friendliness would take root, and perhaps the kids wouldn't grow up fearing and hating mutants. And it wasn't that difficult to smile once in a while. Maybe he should try it out, too.

Donatello's mind drifted off to other channels (as it was wont to do) while they continued setting the posts for the new banister. As they dug the hole for the last one, off in the distance, Donatello heard voices. He recognized them as young and male, and his instincts told him, "Foot - hide." Donatello waved the thought away, but without meaning to, continued listening to the voices, trying to determine if they were a threat. What he heard sounded benign enough - they were chatting and laughing - so he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

Soon, three teenagers came into view, joking and laughing, presumably on their way back from school. When they came up even with Mr Samuels' home, one came up short and said, "Holy..." The other two stopped and followed their friend's gaze to where Donatello and Michelangelo were dropping the last post into place.

Michelangelo stood up, dusted his hands off, and smiled at the newcomers. "Hi," he said. "How you doin'?"

One of the kids laughed. "What the hell are you?"

Donatello decided to let Michelangelo handle the talking, curious to see how he'd handle this.

Indicating the house with a nod of his head, Michelangelo answered, "New tenants. Trying to get the place looking passable."

"You moved in here?" said the kid. "Well, there goes the neighborhood." His friends laughed, but they were both rather nervous laughs. "I tell you something, freaks," the kid continued. "You best keep your butt-ugly faces indoors, unless you're looking for trouble."

Michelangelo sort of half-shrugged. "We ain't looking for trouble, but we'll be coming outside when we gotta. Sorry."

The kid stared at Michelangelo for a few seconds, then turned away. "Let's get out of here - lookin' at 'em's making me sick." They headed back down the street, with a few backward glances.

Donatello watched as Michelangelo started filling in the hole around the final post. "How'd you do that?"

"Do what?" Michelangelo looked up, confused.

"Diffuse that whole situation. I thought they were gonna leap over the fence and start swinging."

Michelangelo shrugged. "They mighta. I was ready for that." He resumed spading dirt as he went on. "But remember what Sensei said - sometimes humans just want to talk tough. It makes them feel important. I figured if I sort of let them, they'd feel they saved face, and wouldn't have to fight."

Donatello smiled and shook his head as he picked up the shovel. "Splinter would say you were 'very wise, my son.'"

Having completed his task, Michelangelo stood up and grinned. "Makes sure you tell him so. I might get extra board time tonight."

* * *

Joe Richardson clicked his teeth as he tried to come to grips with the omnipresent New York traffic. He stole a glance over at Bruce Samuels in the passenger seat, who was tapping his fingers on his briefcase impatiently. "I still don't know what you hope to accomplish by bringing me along," Joe said.

Bruce nervously looked over at Joe. "Oh. Well, I figure someone as high up as you will be able to convince him to sell."

"I guessed that. But come on. If he's not going to listen to his grandson, what makes you think he'll listen to me?"

"That's just it. I'm his grandson." In a slightly more bitter tone, Bruce added, "To him, I'm still a young punk kid who's got a lot to learn."

Joe smiled. "Understood." He pulled off the main thoroughfare and began maneuvering the car slowly down the side street. He glanced up and down the street, but didn't see what he was looking for. "Where is this place again?" he asked.

"Third to last home on the left," said Bruce, digging through his briefcase for some papers.

Joe pulled across the street from the house and stared at it for a second. "I thought you said the place was completely run down."

Bruce couldn't really see the house from his vantage point, so he opened the door, got out, and stared over the roof. At first, he thought he was mistaken, but no, that really was his grandfather's house. It wasn't in such sorry shape anymore. It still needed paint, but the fence was mended, the yard was cleared, the windows looked clean, and there were new banisters and benches.

Joe got out of the car and glance back at Bruce. "I thought you said your grandfather didn't get around much anymore."

"He doesn't. Maybe he dug up the money to fix it up. Let's go find out."

They crossed the street, entered the gate, and walked up the steps to the front door. Everything seemed perfectly maintained - even the porch had been swept within the last day or so. Bruce rang the doorbell, and prepared for the inevitable long wait for his grandfather to get to the door. He was somewhat surprised to hear steps quickly approaching the door, but that was nothing compared to his surprise when the door opened to reveal an out-of-breath, sweaty five-foot turtle.

"Aah!" said Bruce, flinching back a bit.

"Aah!" responded Michelangelo, half in jest, half in real surprise.

"Wh...what's going on?" said Bruce, flustered. "Where's Gran...where's Patrick Samuels?"

"He's in his room. Did you want to see him?"

"Yes," said Bruce, a bit peeved at the question.

"Let me round him up. Can I ask who you are?"

"Bruce Samuels. His grandson?"

"Oh, cool. I'm Michelangelo, glad to meet you." He wiped his hand on his leg before holding it out to Bruce. Bruce very reluctantly took it. "Sorry," Michelangelo went on. "I've been sparring down in the dojo, and I'm all sweaty. And you are?" he added, looking at Joe.

"Joe Richardson."

"Great. Come on in." He opened the door wide and shepherded them into the living room. As they sat down, he said, "Be right back," and headed down the hall. Mr Samuels' door was closed, so he knocked gently. A few second later, the door opened, and Mr Samuels looked at him expectantly.

"You've got visitors," said Michelangelo. "Your grandson Bruce, and a guy named Joe Richardson?"

Mr Samuels rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Well, guess I can't keep them waiting," he grumbled. Michelangelo stepped aside and let Mr Samuels lead him slowly back up the hall. Once they reached the living room, Bruce looked up and smiled.

"Hey, Grandpa. This is Mr Richardson from the office."

Mr Samuels shook his hand. "From the real estate office, I take it?" he asked.

"That's right."

Michelangelo decided his presence wasn't needed anymore. "Did any of you need something to drink or anything?" he asked.

Bruce and Joe shook their heads, and Mr Samuels said, "I don't think so, Michelangelo, but could you send Splinter up?"

"Sure thing. Good to meet you two," he added, as he head out of the room and down the stairs.

Bruce watched him go, then turned to his grandfather as he sat down heavily. "What the heck is that thing?"

Mr Samuels furrowed his brow. "That thing, as you call him, is one of my boarders."

"Boarders?" Bruce echoed. "You mean, you let that thing live here?"

The lines on Mr Samuels' brow grew deeper. "That thing has a name, Bruce. It's Michelangelo, and yes, I let him live here."

Splinter appeared in the doorway. "I beg your pardon, Mr Samuels, but Michelangelo said you wished to see me."

"Indeed I do. This is my grandson Bruce, and his co-worker Joe Richardson." Turning to Splinter, he went on, "And this is...I'm sorry, Splinter, I forgot your real name."

"That does not matter. 'Splinter' will most likely be sufficient." Rather than shaking hands, Splinter simply bowed slightly. "I am honored to meet both of you."

"Likewise," said Bob, but Bruce simply gaped.

"Splinter," said Mr Samuels, "I'd like you to sit in on this conversation, if you would."

"Certainly, if you feel I might be of service."

"Sure do. Have a seat." Mr Samuels waited until Splinter had sat down in the other large armchair, then turned to Bruce and Joe expectantly.

Joe decided he'd better steer this conversation. "Mr Samuels, I've done some leg work on this area. And all the indications are extremely promising. The crime rate has absolutely plummeted in this area, and home prices are really on the rise. This area is once more becoming a trendy place to live. No telling how long that will last, of course, but I think you've picked an excellent time to consider selling."

"Well, that's just it, Mr Richardson. I had considered selling, but I'm not considering it anymore."

Bruce said, "Excuse me?"

"I said I'm not interested in selling anymore." Again, he turned to Joe. "A couple months back, when I had that last talk with Bruce, I was kinda desperate. This house was a wreck, the city wasn't happy about it, and I didn't have the money or wherewithal to do anything about it. Selling the house looked like the only option." He pointed over at Splinter. "But then his family came in, and whipped the place back into shape. I don't even remember it looking this good back when I first moved in forty-five years ago."

"You're right - the place does look great," agreed Joe. "Might need a coat of paint or two outside..."

Splinter smiled a bit. "We were hoping to begin that soon."

"But that's even better," insisted Bruce. "Once that's done, this place will fetch even more money, 'cause it won't be a fixer-upper anymore. And with the money you make on the sale, you can do whatever you want."

Mr Samuels frowned again. "What I want to do is live here, in the house I've spent almost half a century in. And what about Splinter and his family? They're the ones that did all the dirty work."

"Well," said Bruce tentatively, "can't you just pay them for their work? Once you find a place to live, they'll still be plenty left over to pay them off. And hey, they can find another place to live, right?"

For a few seconds, Mr Samuels sat, staring evenly at Bruce. Finally, he said, "I don't see any reason to continue this conversation."

Before Bruce could answer, Joe said, "No, I guess not. I apologize, Mr Samuels. It would appear I was operating on some outdated information." He got to his feet, and inclined his head towards his hosts. "It was good to meet you, Mr Samuels, and...Splinter, was it?"

"Correct," said Splinter, returning the head bow.

"I apologize for taking up your time. Bruce, shall we head out?"

Bruce sat dumbfounded, looking first at his grandfather, then at Joe. Finally, he got to his feet and headed out towards the door. Splinter got up and saw them out. "Take care," he said.

"Thanks." Splinter closed the door, and Joe led the way back to the car, with Bruce following.

"I don't get it," Bruce grumbled, fastening his seat belt and putting his briefcase on the floor. "I thought I had this thing sewn up. You think those things are messing with his head?"

Joe glanced over at him, then shook his head lightly as he pulled away. "Bruce, three things. One - the longer people live somewhere, the less they want to move, no matter what the place looks like. Two - never suggest to landlords that their tenants can just 'get another place to live', especially when one of the tenants is sitting right there. And three - I don't care how weird they look, you don't refer to anyone living in their house as a 'thing'."

Bruce listened to this lecture with his mouth half-open. "But...Grandpa seemed so close to agreeing..."

Again, Joe shook his head. "I'd say your grandfather's right. You do have a lot to learn."

* * *

Raphael suddenly jerked awake. He wasn't sure what was up , but something had set off his internal alarm - something wasn't right. He listened intently, and he heard voices, very quiet, coming from outside. Voices he didn't recognize. He pushed back his blanket and quietly dropped to the floor. Cautiously, he made his way to the front window, pulled the shade back a bit, and peeked outside.

A second later, he had leapt into action. He slapped the side of the bunk beds with his hand several times. "Mikey!" he said sharply but quietly. "Get up - grab your chucks!" Without even waiting for a response, he snatched his sai from off of the wall and headed down the hall. He pushed open the door to his brothers' room, and began slapping the side of their bunk beds as well. "Leo! Don! Get up!"

As sound asleep as the turtles were, their ninja training took over almost immediately, and within seconds, they were up, weapons at the ready. Raphael led them to the top of the staircase and started down.

"What's going on?" asked Donatello.

"Some kids out front, wreckin' the place," said Raphael simply.

"What?!" said Michelangelo, but Leonardo immediately switched to battle mode.

"How many?"

"Three."

"All right." They reached the front door, and Leonardo nodded to Donatello. "Get the door, and run back-up." Donatello grabbed the door handle and waited for a signal. Leonardo held up his sheathed katana and nodded to the others. "The rest of you, pick your targets."

Michelangelo grabbed his nunchucks tighter and got in line behind Leonardo and Raphael. Already, he felt his heart racing in anticipation of the battle ahead. Leonardo quietly said, "Now." Donatello opened the door and stepped out of the way, and Michelangelo followed his brothers out the door, yelling. He saw Leonardo leap to the left and immediately take out one guy with a flying kick, as Raphael jumped to the right and tackled another one. Michelangelo had to wait a bit until they were out of the way, by which time the third kid turned tail and ran. Well, thought Michelangelo, he must be my target. Michelangelo leapt down the steps, spinning his chucks, and began giving chase. It took him about half a block to pull up to his prey, at which point he dove and tackled him onto the sidewalk. They slid forward slightly, and as they came to a halt, Michelangelo got up on his knees and turned the kid over.

The kid held his scraped hands up to his face. "No! No!" he yelled.

Michelangelo looked at the kid's face. "Hey, I know you," he said. The kid, realizing that Michelangelo wasn't about to beat him senseless, slowly pulled his hands from his face. "Yeah," Michelangelo went on. "You're those guys from a couple days ago - the ones that called us butt-ugly."

"That wasn't me - that was Joel!"

"What the heck were you doin' back there?" demanded Michelangelo, putting his chucks to the side.

"I wasn't doing nothing!" the kid insisted. "I thought we were just gonna hang out or somethin'. But then when we stopped by your place, Andy told me to keep watch, and then they started taggin' your place. I didn't know they were gonna do that - honest! I tried to tell 'em not to, but they wouldn't listen."

Michelangelo leaned back on his heels, put his nunchucks away and thought. This kid might just be trying to save his skin, but then again, he could be telling the truth. Better let Splinter decide. "What's your name?"

"Will," said the kid sullenly.

"All right, Will. Let's see what Splinter says." Michelangelo got to his feet, then helped Will up. "March," he said, pointing back home.

"What are you gonna do?" said Will, worried. He didn't have any inclination to head back to this turtle's home, but then again, he could tell he wasn't exactly in control of this situation. That tackle hadn't felt like a lucky maneuver, and he kept looking at the nunchucks on Michelangelo's belt nervously.

"Just lead you back. Sensei'll take it from there." Michelangelo put his hand on Will's shoulder and led him back up the street. As they approached the house, Michelangelo saw their handiwork. One had spray-painted "FREAKS GO" across one side of the porch, and the other had only gotten as far as "YOU". Michelangelo spied Leonardo sitting next to one of the kids on the porch, but Raphael stood right next to the other one who was sitting on the lawn. Michelangelo couldn't be sure, but it looked like Raphael was ready to kick this kid to Boston and back.

As Michelangelo opened the gate for Will, Donatello leaned out the front door.

"I woke up Sensei, and he's waking up Mr Samuels. They'll be out in a bit. Oh, and Sensei told me to call the police, so be right back."

"You're gonna turn us in to the cops?" said Will, horrified, as Donatello disappeared back inside.

The kid next to Raphael snickered. "Relax. Ain't no cop gonna come out for any rinky-dink thing like this."

Raphael narrowed his eyes at him. "You better hope they show up. Otherwise, it's gonna be us takin' care of ya."

"Really?" said the kid. "Whatcha gonna do to us? Try 'n' make us as ugly as you?"

Raphael turned to look at Leonardo up on the deck. "Permission to shut this guy's trap."

"Permission denied," Leonardo said wearily. "You know Sensei wouldn't allow that sort of thing."

Michelangelo shepherded Will up the steps, but paused to look at the kid next to Raphael. "What's your name?" he asked.

"I ain't tellin' you," said the kid.

"Joel?" guessed Michelangelo.

Joel's eyes got big, and he turned his head towards Will. "What'd ya tell 'im for, ya squealer?"

"He didn't tell - I guessed," said Michelangelo, which was almost true. He indicated a spot for Will to sit down, and he took his place next to him. Looking back out at Joel, he went on, "So what's the deal? Why you wanna wreck our house for?"

"'cause I don't want no freaks around here," said Joel sullenly. Before he could elaborate, the front door opened, and Master Splinter stepped out. He looked over at people on the porch, and then at Raphael and Joel still on the lawn. Slowly, Splinter came down the steps, as Joel gave him a look and snorted. "Great - someone even freakier than you freaks."

Raphael smacked him on the back of the head. "Show some respect, you."

Splinter shook his head at Raphael. "My son, do not attempt to force respect through violence. Such endeavors are doomed to failure." He paused to look over the damage. Nothing too major, and nothing they couldn't fix. They were planning to paint the house, anyway.

"Where's Mr Samuels?" asked Leonardo.

"He is still asleep," answered Splinter. "His medication makes it difficult for him to wake up in the middle of the night, and so he asked me to handle this situation if at all possible."

As Splinter looked up from the house, Michelangelo called out to him. "Sensei."

"Yes, my son?"

"Could I...talk to you for a sec?"

Splinter considered. "Certainly. Let us go back inside. If you all will retain control out here?" The other turtles nodded, and Splinter began climbing the steps again.

Michelangelo turned back to Will. "C'mon."

"What's going on?" asked Will quietly.

"Your big break." He led him to the front door, herded him inside, then waited for Splinter to walk in before entering himself and closing the door behind him.

"What is it, Michelangelo?" asked Splinter.

"Uh, this is Will," said Michelangelo, not sure if he should be introducing the guy who might have just been defacing their home. Splinter bowed slightly, and Michelangelo went on. "Well, he says he didn't know this was gonna happen."

"I didn't - I swear!" Will blurted out. "They just came up here, told me to keep look out, then started at it! I tried to tell him not to..."

"But apparently you did not succeed," said Splinter.

"Well, no. But you guys came running out of here quick enough."

Splinter paused in thought. "How did you learn of their presence, Michelangelo?"

"Their pre...? Oh, Raph woke me up. I guess he saw 'em."

"Then I suppose I should check with him." Splinter turned towards Will. "How do you feel about what has transpired tonight?"

Will looked at the floor. "Lousy," he mumbled.

"Then perhaps there is hope. Will, I would strongly suggest that you rethink your choice of friends," Splinter lectured. "There is no indication that this scenario will not play out again at a future date. And better to have no friends at all than friends such as these." Will continued looking down and didn't respond. After a pause, Splinter went on, "Would you be willing to help make amends?"

Finally, Will looked up. "How?"

"Would you be willing to help us paint the porch tomorrow?"

Will protested weakly, "But I wasn't the one that did it - it was the other two!"

"Yes," agreed Splinter. "But I somehow doubt this is something they will assent to doing. I believe I must leave their penance in the hands of the authorities. And although you may not have caused the damage, you did facilitate it. At times, you will find that you must take responsibility for the company you choose to keep." He paused for a bit to let his words sink in. "Would you be willing to help us?" he asked again.

Will thought about it, then nodded, and Splinter smiled a bit. "Excellent." Looking back at Michelangelo, he added, "It is rather chilly tonight - perhaps you will bring everyone their jackets?"

"Oh, sure." Michelangelo opened the hall closet, grabbed five jackets off the rack, and handed one to Splinter.

"Thank you, my son." Splinter put on his coat, and then led Michelangelo and Will back out the door. Once on the porch, Splinter indicated for Will to resume his seat, as Michelangelo distributed the jackets. Once he handed Raphael his, Michelangelo paused, wondering where Donatello was. As if on cue, the front door opened again, and Donatello came back out.

"Well, the police thought it was funny that we were reporting a case of vandalism..." he began, taking his coat from Michelangelo.

"Told ya," sneered Joel.

"...until I told them we had caught the vandals and had them in custody. That sort of changed their tune - they're sending a car over now."

"What?" said Andy, now also clearly worried.

"Relax," said Joel, lying back in the dead grass. "Who you think the cops are gonna believe - us, or these freaks?"

Michelangelo grinned. "Yeah, they'll think we started tagging our own home, changed our mind halfway through, then decided to pin it on you folks. Sure, I can see them believing that."

Splinter walked over to the porch railing. "Raphael," he said, quietly. Raphael looked up expectantly, and Splinter went on. "How were you first made aware of their presence here?"

Thinking for a second, Raphael said slowly, "I think I woke up when I heard 'em talking - not very loud, but I heard 'em."

"Do you remember anything they said?"

Raphael thought harder. After a pause, he shook his head. "No. I don't think I ever made out anything - just heard 'em talking, you know."

"Yes. Did it sound like they were...arguing? Or disagreeing in any way?"

Once more, Raphael thought back. "You know, I think so. Their voices got kinda louder, and...well, it didn't really sound like they were fightin' or anything, but it did sound like they weren't agreeing on something."

"I see - thank you, my son." Splinter walked back and sat down on the bench.

Leonardo thought about asking what that conversation meant, but then decided against it. Instead, he turned back to Andy. He never thought he'd hear himself think it, but he was starting to hope the cops would show up soon. He was tired of simply guarding these kids - he wanted to wash his hands of the whole affair and get back to bed. After nervously wringing his hands for a bit, he turned to Michelangelo. "Wish this was over."

"Yeah, me too," agreed Michelangelo.

"What do you talk to that other guy about?" Leonardo asked quietly.

Michelangelo was about to answer when a light at the end of the street caught his eye. He watched as the squad car drove up and parked in front of the building. Splinter got to his feet and began descending the stairs, which relieved Michelangelo. He was used to running when police cars showed up, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to explain everything as well as Sensei would.

Two police officers stepped out of the car. The driver took one look at the people on the lawn and porch and began laughing. "Well, looks like we already got our nomination for weird call of the night."

"Good evening, Officer Whitman" said Splinter, reading the name off his badge and bowing somewhat. "I apologize for calling you out on such a trivial matter, but I believed this is something best left to you."

Officer Whitman stared at Splinter for a bit before responding. "What's the story here?"

"A fairly simple and straight-forward one. These youths attempted to deface our home here. As you can see, they partially succeeded."

"But you caught them in the act and stopped them?"

"That was the work of my sons." Upon hearing this, the turtles got to their feet.

"Man, oh, man," said the other policeman.

Officer Whitman was about to reply, when something caught his eye. He walked halfway up the steps and indicated something on Michelangelo's belt. "What you got there, son?"

"These?" Michelangelo took out his weapons and held them up. "Nunchucks. Didn't need them, as it turned out..." Suddenly, a thought stopped him cold. What if carrying nunchucks was a crime in New York? He had never considered that before. What if they ended hauling him away, instead?

Fortunately, that's not the way the conversation turned. "Walking, talking turtle with nunchucks," he said, then turned to Leonardo. "And swords. I've heard of you."

"What's that?" asked Michelangelo.

"Last couple years, I got called to several attempted robberies. Found the perpetrators all tied up, with witnesses saying it was a walking talking turtle with martial arts weapons. That's gotta be you guys, right? The guys that helped take down the Foot clan?"

What do you mean, helped? thought Raphael, but wisely held his tongue. Splinter bowed slightly and answered for them. "Indeed." Quietly to Officer Whitman, he added, "I would ask, if at all possible, that you not publicize this. We would prefer that any former Foot members not be aware of our location."

"Gotcha," said Officer Whitman. "Although I know lots of officers who'd like to shake your hand. Well, looks like a straightforward case of vandalism, caught-in-the-act. So we'll just take some statements, run these kids in and take it from there."

Joel's face crumbled. He had put on a brave front, first assuming that the police wouldn't show, and then figuring that at least the cops would side with them against these freaks. But now it looked like these freaks were buddy-buddy with the police, which meant one thing - he was now completely and utterly screwed.


	9. Nine

April shot the mutants a smile as she entered the principal's office. Closing the door behind her, she turned to the woman behind the desk. "Ms Wong?"

The principal looked up from her papers, smiled, and got to her feet. "Ms O'Neil, hello!" They shook hands. "You've brought the prospective students?"

"Yes, they're in the next room. Thanks so much for doing this for them."

"Oh, it's not that big a deal. We have to test all prospective students in any case, and besides, I have a ton of paperwork to catch up on." Ms Wong walked to the front of her desk and leaned against it. "So what's the story on these four? You said they were home-schooled until now, but you sounded sort of...hesitant."

"Yeah. Actually, their story's a bit odd."

Ms Wong smiled a bit. "They all seem to be."

"This one more than the others. Their...parent is a legal immigrant from Japan. And several years ago, he...mutated."

"He what?"

"He mutated. His DNA...well, it got scrambled. Got combined with another animal's. And four other...creatures got mutated as well."

"Oh, right - mutants." Frowning, Ms Wong guessed, "And those four are the ones out there?"

"Right. But Splin...Hamato Yoshi raised them really well. He's done a great job getting them ready, I think."

"You think they're ready for high school?"

"I think so. But I guess your tests will determine that for sure."

Ms Wong paused a second. "Now...these four...do they look...?"

April shook her head. "They look odd. They're part turtle."

"Really?"

"Yeah. But they're not...hideous or anything." April smiled a bit. "Why not have a look?"

She led Ms Wong out of the office, and into the reception area. As they entered, the turtles stood up. Ms Wong considered them for a second. No, they didn't look that bad. She could anticipate them getting their share of abuse from their fellow students - anyone who was even slightly different could count on that - but it shouldn't prove overly disruptive.

"Guys," April said. "This is Ms Wong, the principal of this school. Ms Wong, this is Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo and Raphael." Each one bowed slightly as their name was given, and Ms Wong smiled.

"How do you do?"

"Fine, thank you," answered Leonardo.

"So...are you ready to start the testing?"

Leonardo nodded. "We think so."

"Excellent. If you'll follow me?" She led them down the hall, turning into an empty classroom about halfway down. Turning back to them, she requested, "If you'll each take a seat, one in each corner of the room?"

Hesitantly, the turtles picked their seats: Leonardo and Donatello in the front, Michelangelo and Raphael in the rear. Ms Wong put down her stack of papers on the teacher's desk at the front of the room, and began sorting through them.

Raphael fidgeted a bit, tapping his pencil nervously. He glanced over at Michelangelo, who grinned at him and gave him a thumbs-up sign. Raphael half-smiled in return, then faced forward and exhaled loudly. He closed his eyes and thought back to what Splinter had told him last night.

"Do not succumb to panic," he had said, specifically to Raphael. "This test is solely to indicate where you need to begin in school. The answers will come, if you let them."

Raphael was jerked back to reality by a stack of papers being placed on his desk. He listened carefully to the instructions. Four sections, 45 minutes per section. He glanced down at the directions, then suddenly furrowed his brow. What the heck was a "number two" pencil? He looked at his pencil intently. Well, it had a big "2" on it, so presumably, it was the right one. But what if it wasn't? He'd better check. Very hesitantly, he put his hand up.

"Yes?" asked Ms Wong.

"Um, I think this is a number two pencil, but I'm not sure."

Ms Wong walked over and glanced at the pencil that Raphael held up to her. "Yes, that's a number two," she confirmed, pointing to a spot near the eraser. "See that number?"

"Yeah, well, I thought so," said Raphael uncomfortably. "I just wanted to be sure."

Ms Wong smiled. "Well, better safe than sorry." She headed back to the teacher's desk.

Raphael frowned - he felt like he had already gotten off on the wrong foot. Turning his attention back to his test, he read the directions once more, then opened the booklet and glanced at the first page. 'Read the following paragraph and answer the following questions,' he read. Raphael read the first few sentences, then frowned. This sentence didn't make much sense - "My experience combined with your need for a supervisor have resulted in..." He quickly jumped down to the first question. "How would you fix the third sentence to..." Oh! He was supposed to find all the mistakes. Got it. He quickly started over.

The next half hour or so went by at a fair clip. Raphael skipped a few, went back and filled them in, had second thoughts on two or three, erased a couple, switched them for different answers. He filled in the last answer, then dared to glance up at the clock. Finished! With ninety seconds to spare! He remembered the directions said he could use any extra time he had to recheck his work, but what could he recheck in less than two minutes? Instead, he just put his pencil down and sighed heavily.

It wasn't much longer before Ms Wong glanced at her watch and stood up. "All right. The time is up for that section." Raphael glanced over at Michelangelo, who grinned back at him. Raphael gave him the thumbs-up sign, and Michelangelo responded by pumping his fist in the air as Ms Wong collected his papers.

They were given a quick break before starting the next round. Michelangelo went to the bathroom, while Leonardo pulled his feet up into a semi-lotus position and meditated. Raphael stepped out into the hallway to use the drinking fountain - English was thirsty work.

As Raphael sat back down, he felt a bit more comfortable with himself. Heck, this wasn't going too bad. Ms Wong handed out the next packet to him, and glancing at the subject - math - he felt his heart sink a bit. Math had always been his worst subject, and now he was going to find out just how bad he was at it.

To Raphael, the previous forty-five minute period had seemed to go by pretty fast. But this next one was closer to a blur. Raphael never exactly panicked, but he got pretty close a few times. Raphael sucked on the eraser of his pencil a few times, made a few more erases, and skipped one where he absolutely no idea how to proceed. When he heard Ms Wong announce that time was up, he looked up wild-eyed. He still hadn't finished the last two questions! In a panic, he filled out "C" for both of them quickly, and slammed his pencil down. As soon as Ms Wong announced another short break, Raphael leapt to his feet and stormed out of the door.

Leonardo watched him leave, then, concerned, he stood up and followed. He couldn't find him in the hall, so he headed to the bathroom. Opening the door, he saw Raphael rinsing his face off in the sink. Leonardo walked in and leaned against one of the stall walls. "You okay?"

Raphael glanced up at Leonardo, then turned off the water. "No," he said simply, as he pulled some paper towels from the holder and wiped his face off.

"You have a tough time with the math?"

"Ya have t'ask?" Raphael threw the paper towels away, leaned back against the sink and sighed. "I didn't even finish."

"How many didn't you get to?"

Shrugging, Raphael said, "Three. I freaked out - just put C for the last two right at the end."

Leonardo smiled. "I think the last one was C, actually, so you at least got one of those. And hey - three's not bad. It's not like you couldn't do any of them."

"I guess not."

"Besides, remember what Sensei said. This isn't that big a deal - it's just to figure out where we're supposed to be."

"Yeah, but..." He shook his head.

"But what? What is it?"

Raphael stared at the floor for a second, then suddenly looked straight at Leonardo. "What if the tests say all you three are set for high school, but I'm not?"

Leonardo paused. He hadn't ever considered that. What if Raphael had to start in junior high - away from his three brothers, the only ones he'd know at this school? And he'd probably catch hell for being the "stupid one" of the four, as well. No wonder Raphael was so nervous.

Finally, he shook his head. "It won't happen."

"How do you know?"

Leonardo put his left hand on Raphael's shoulder and pointed at him with his right. "First off, you're smarter than you give yourself credit for. Sure, you're no Donatello, but you got a brain. And secondly, you're a ninja turtle, damnit. You've survived Foot sneak attacks and going head-to-head with the Shredder. And now you're telling me you're gonna be defeated by some piece of paper?"

Raphael looked surprised, then grinned. "Hell, no." He raised his right hand up, and Leonardo clasped it tightly. "So what are we doing in here?" asked Raphael rhetorically. "There's a couple more tests out there that need their butts kicked."

* * *

April pulled the truck up in front of the school, and was surprised to see the turtles immediately spill out of the front door. She rolled down the window and leaned down to speak to them. "All done?" 

"Yeah," said Michelangelo, and the others nodded in agreement.

"How'd you do?"

"We won't know for another week or so," said Leonardo, obviously disappointed. "But we all think we did OK."

"Great job!" said April. "Sounds like a celebration's in order. You guys up for Pete's Pizza?"

"April, when are we not up for Pete's Pizza?" asked Michelangelo, grinning.

"All right, then - hop on in!" She rolled up the window as the turtles climbed into the bed of the pickup truck.

As she drove off, Leonardo turned to Raphael. "So? How'd the rest go?"

Raphael smiled a bit. "Well, I won't know for sure until I get my score, but I'm pretty sure the butt got kicked."

Michelangelo added, louder to be heard over the noise, "Dudes, I was kinda stressin' last night, but I was cruisin' through that thing." He turned to Donatello. "What'd you think, genius brother?"

Donatello gave a lopsided smile. "It...wasn't what I was expecting." He didn't seem willing to expand on this, and the other three knew better than to try to draw anything else out of him. Instead, they turned the discussion to what toppings they wanted on their pizzas. Donatello made his wishes known, but mainly sat quietly, lost in thought. He had considered himself ready for anything, but this was one situation he was apparently unready for. He had found the test almost ridiculously easy. He had finished every section in about half the allotted time, and had spent the rest of it rechecking his work, sometimes three or four times. Is this what was in store for him at high school? He fretted, and promised himself to talk to Splinter about it.

* * *

Leonardo moved Casey's gym bag from one shoulder to the other, looking around nervously. He caught a few people staring at him - well, why wouldn't they? He was the only green guy around. Trying to keep himself from getting too paranoid, he glanced back down at Master Splinter. He had begun filling out another form slowly in his measured hand. After finishing, the woman in front of them (rather calmly, considering) said, "The locker room is off to your left there. First matches are at 1pm." 

Splinter half-bowed. "Thank you." He picked up his copy of the form and indicated for Leonardo to follow him. They entered the locker room, ignoring the expected stares. They found an empty space near the entrance, which soon got larger as people began giving them a wide berth. Leonardo unzipped the gym bag and pulled out his karate uniform. He looked at it a second, then glanced around nervously.

"What is wrong, my son?" asked Splinter quietly.

"Um..." Leonardo leaned in closer and whispered. "I've never...gotten undressed in front of humans before."

Splinter whispered his response. "And this embarrasses you?"

"Well, sorta, yeah."

"What is it exactly that embarrasses you?"

"That...that they'll stare at me."

"Do they not do that anyway?"

"Y-yeah..."

"And did you not spend your first years not wearing any clothing?"

Leonardo sighed. "Yeah, I suppose."

Splinter smiled and put his hand on Leonardo's shoulder. "My son, do not be concerned. If you show them you have nothing to be ashamed of, it will be they who will feel embarrassed for looking."

Smiling a bit, Leonardo nodded. "Right. And it's not like there's anything to see, right?" He pulled his shirt off and placed it in the locker. Splinter turned away and glanced back into the locker room. A few people were, in fact, staring, but Splinter caught their gaze, and they quickly looked away.

Leonard finished tying his obi and gave himself a smirk. He put his street clothes in the gym bag and stood up. "Ready."

"Then let us examine the competition area." Splinter picked up the gym bag and led Leonardo out the back of the locker room.

"Wow," said Leonardo, looking around the gymnasium. It was a lot larger than he was expecting. He counted the number of bleachers on both sides - room for several hundred. It didn't look like many people were going to be attending, though, which made Leonardo feel a lot better. He scanned the crowd until he spotted his brothers and Casey in the crowd, returned their wild waves, then followed Splinter as he walked over to a large screen. Leonardo examined his sheet - he was number 83 - and looked back up at the screen. There was a large elimination grid set up, and Leonardo peered around, trying to find his number.

Splinter pointed up towards the upper left. "There you are." Leonardo followed his finger. There it was - 83 vs 25, area J, 1pm. "Now we must find where area J is." Splinter looked down at the map underneath the screen, and herded Leonardo to the other side of the arena.

While walking by, Leonardo looked around at the other competitors. All in their mid, late teens. All with black belts. He noticed a lot of grey uniforms with a red dragon symbol on them. Those look really neat, he thought. It'd be neat to have one of those. Leonardo looked down at his own uniform, with its three-petalled flower crest, and suddenly shook his head. No, I don't wish I had one. This is sensei's crest, and I'd rather wear his uniform than any other.

They reached area J, where one student was standing doing stretching exercises. Splinter put the gym bag down off to the side, and Leonardo approached the student. "Hey," Leonardo said, smiling.

"Uh, hi," he said, confused. "So...what are you? Mascot for the kids?"

"Um, I think I'm your first opponent."

"Wh-you? Number 83?"

"Yeah - Leonardo Hamato." He held out his hand.

"Oh, geez, I'm...I'm sorry. Jake. Jake Brown." Jake grasped Leonardo's hand. "God, I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't worry about it. I get it a lot."

"I was kind of wondering what you'd look like. I mean, Leonardo Hamato - is that Italian or...?"

"Hamato's Japanese, but Sensei named me for Da Vinci, so yeah, I guess it's Italian."

"Sensei? Your teacher named you?"

Leonardo nodded toward Splinter. "Yeah. He raised me - adopted me."

Jake scratched his head. "Wow - a lifer. Just my luck."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I've been studying for five years, and I think I've done pretty good. But you've been growing up with your teacher."

Shrugging, Leonardo said, "Well, it is intense - no question about it." He glanced over at Splinter, then turned back to Jake. "Look, I'll let you finish your warm-up - best of luck to you."

"Thanks, Leonardo - you too."

Leo smiled and walked back over to Splinter. "He's nice."

"That is gratifying. However, do not let that keep you from concentrating on him as an opponent." Splinter began the stretching routine.

Leonardo smiled and began following along. "Don't worry about it. Don's nice, too, but I've got no problem beating him."

They were completing the routine when the judge announced the beginning of the match. Leonardo walked to his end of the competition area, drew a large breath, and let it out slowly. Well, he thought, here it goes. He bowed to Jake, bowed to the judge, and went into his defensive position.

Jake made the first move, hopping towards him and aiming a kick towards his midsection. Leonardo, almost without thinking, blocked it, waited for the next move, and was surprised to not see one. Jake simply stood there for a few seconds. His entire left flank is exposed, thought Leonardo. A simple side kick would earn him half a point. But Leonardo hesitated - maybe Jake was drawing him out. Finally, Jake feigned with his left hand and aimed a punch with his right. Leonardo knocked it away with his left wrist, and again spotted a large opening, this time straight ahead. This can't be that easy, thought Leonardo, again hesitating. Finally, Jake attempted a side kick, which Leonardo blocked with his right arm. Well, may as well try something, Leonardo thought, and responded with a palm to Jake's chest. Jake stumbled backwards slightly, as the judge indicated a half-point for Leonardo.

Leonardo was heading back to his starting position when Splinter waved him over. He changed course and leaned close to Splinter so he wouldn't have to strain to hear him.

"Did you not see his flank open?" asked Splinter.

"Um...yeah."

"And you did not attack?"

"Um...I thought it might be a lure or something."

Splinter shook his head. "Leonardo, do not hesitate. If this were truly an enemy, your goal would be to defeat him as quickly as possible. You are not doing Jake a kindness by forcing him to fight you for a longer period of time."

Leonardo bowed his head and nodded. "Right, sensei." He stood up and headed back to his corner. He bowed to Jake, then to the judge, and again adopted his defensive pose. This time, as soon as he saw Jake coming towards him, he went on the offensive. He feigned a left-leg kick, and instead came around the side with his right hand. Jake, caught completely off-guard, took the blow full-on and tumbled sideways onto the mat. Leonardo retained his defensive position until he heard the judge award him his score, then he reached his hand down to Jake to help him up. Jake simply stared at him for a second, then grabbed his hand and pulled himself up. Leonardo smiled a bit, patted him on the shoulder, then walked back to his corner. After exchanging bows, he simply stood in his position, and waited for Jake to approach him. Jake took a few cautious steps, but remained a fair distance away. Neither moved for a few seconds, but Jake broke the impasse with a cry and sudden leap. Leonardo nimbly moved aside and struck down on Jake's chest as he flew by. After hearing the judge award him the point, Leonardo again leaned down and offered his hand. This time Jake shook his head and leapt to his feet. Doggedly, he went back to his corner, and Leonardo did the same. Once the bows were exchanged, Leonardo went straight to the offensive. He ran up a few steps, faked a leaping kick, and instead brought his left arm around towards Jake's side. Jake managed to block it, but not the return blow to his chest from Leonardo's right arm. The judge signaled the victory, and Leonardo stepped back and bowed to both Jake and the judge.

Jake then stepped forward and held out his hand. "Great match!" he said, although there were still traces of disappointment on his face.

"Thanks!" said Leonardo, clasping his hand. "You did good."

"Are you kidding? I didn't land a thing! Didn't even come close."

"You blocked that last move."

"Got lucky once, that's all." Jake glanced across the gum. "Look, I gotta find my sensei and break the news to him. Good luck, Leonardo!" Leonardo watched as Jake jogged off to the other side of the gym.

Splinter came up beside him. "A very pleasant young man."

"Yeah, I like him." Leonardo turned to Master Splinter. "So what now?"

"You have dispatched your adversary fairly quickly, so I believe you have some spare time."

"Yeah, I guess. We probably should go see where I play next, though."

* * *

"Good - very good!" Master Yenchiki nodded and smiled. Despite the strides that Laurie had made over the last year, he didn't hold much hope for her to do well in this tournament. However, she had just tied the match with an excellent roundhouse kick. 

He turned and smiled as Jake ran up. He returned the bow and smiled. "So, you've dispatched your opponent so soon?"

"Um, no, actually. I lost."

Master Yenchiki attempted to not look crestfallen. "Indeed?" He had hoped Jake would make the finals, and he certainly wasn't expecting him to get knocked out in the first round.

"Yeah - he was incredible." He paused while Laurie and her opponent continued their match. After Laurie earned another half-point, he turned back to Master Yenchiki. "Would you mind if I watched him in his next match?"

"You feel there is something to be learned by watching?"

"Definitely."

"Then by all means."

"Thanks, sensei!" Jake gave a quick bow, and ran off. Master Yenchiki watched him go, wondering.

* * *

"Dude, you clobbered him!" said Raphael, hanging over the railing. 

"Not exactly," said Leonardo, looking up at him rather embarrassedly.

"Shut him out, two - zip!" said Casey proudly. "Nice going!"

"Thanks. Of course, now I've got another match to deal with."

"Who against?"

"Depends on who wins - number 11 or number 109." Leonardo pointed to an empty sparring area. "That's where we'll be."

"Cool, that one's closer to here."

"I'd better go get set. See ya, guys."

"Good luck, dude!" said Michelangelo, as he scurried off. They walked back to their seats.

"Do you think he can go all the way?" asked Michelangelo excitedly.

"Splinter would call that 'planning too far ahead', I think," said Donatello. But even he looked excited.

"Guys, if he can keep fighting like that, I think he's got this thing sewn up," Casey said confidently.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?" A teenager in t-shirt and jeans pointed to the spot next to Michelangelo on the bleachers.

Michelangelo looked around the gym. There were plenty of places to sit - why did he want to sit there? But may as well be polite. "Sure, no problem." Michelangelo scooted over a bit to give him some more room.

"Thanks. I'm guessing you're all here with Leonardo."

"Yeah...hey! Are you the guy he just sparred with?"

"Yeah, he really kicked my butt, huh?"

"Actually, I thought you fought pretty good. I'm Michelangelo." He held out his hand.

"Jake. Jake Brown."

"This is Donatello, Raphael and Casey."

"Hey." Everyone waved and said hello, and Jake turned back to Michelangelo. "Leonardo, Michelangelo, Donatello, and Raphael, huh?"

Michelangelo gave a lopsided smile. "Yeah, sensei's a real art freak."

"Your sensei is the...?"

"Rat - you betcha." Michelangelo grin straightened out.

"He trained Leonardo really good."

"Actually, he trained all of us. Leo's the best of us, though."

"Says you," said Raphael.

"Don't mind Raph here - he's just jealous." Michelangelo ducked out of the way as Raphael tried to smack him across his head. "Sorry you got knocked out so early, though."

Jake managed a smile. "Well, I sure didn't think I'd get knocked out first round. Last year, I got to quarter-finals. But whatcha gonna do? I got a bad draw. I just have to make sure I don't go up against Leonardo early on in January."

"What's January?" asked Raphael.

"Biggest tournament of the year. Happens every year at the end of January down at Madison Square Garden. Isn't Leonardo competing?"

"No. At least, I don't think so." Michelangelo sort of waved out to the competitors. "This here was sorta Leo's birthday present. It can get kinda boring always sparring the same three guys - four if ya count Splinter. So we paid his entry fee, got him his outfit, and here he is."

Jake's eyes got wide. "You mean this is his first tournament?"

"Yeah." Michelangelo grinned again. "Not bad, huh?"

Donatello pointed. "That must be Leo's new opponent."

Squinting, Raphael added, "He's got one of those dragon crests on his uniform. What school's that, Jake?"

"Bushido Martial Arts Academy."

"They've got a lot of students here," said Donatello, scanning the gym.

Jake looked surprised. "You've never heard of them?"

Raphael smirked. "We lead a sheltered life."

"They're the huge martial arts school near Central Park. Kinda snobby. They only take, like, one out of every ten people who tries to enroll."

"Oh, yeah - I've walked by there a few times," said Donatello, stopping himself before he added "on patrol".

"They turn away students?" Michelangelo asked.

"Tons of 'em. I applied when I was ten - they had me do some basic maneuvers, then told my mom I wasn't Bushido material."

"Why so selective?" said Donatello.

"Because they can be, probably. One of their students wins these competitions almost every time."

"No kidding?"

"Yeah. In September, we had a mini-competition, and they just swept the thing. I came in ninth, but the rest of the top ten was all Bushidos."

"Geez," said Michelangelo. "Why do other schools bother showin' up?"

Jake smiled. "They get stuck-up, and it pisses the rest of us off. It makes you want to beat them even more."

Raphael returned the wicked smile. "Well, let's just watch Leonardo clean the floor with this sleazoid."


	10. Ten

Leonardo had assumed the lotus position. He had felt himself getting cocky after his easy victory over Jake, and wanted to bring himself back to a centered state. When he felt himself back where he wanted to be, he relaxed and slowly opened his eyes. Standing on the other end of the competition area were two guys, both wearing the grey uniforms he had admired earlier. They were sort of facing his direction, but Leonardo was unsure whether they were looking at him or not. He got to his feet and walked over to them.

"Hi," he said. "I'm number 83. Is one of you number 11?"

The two guys looked at each other, then back at him. "Me," said the taller one.

"I guess you're my next opponent." Leonardo held out his hand. "I'm Leonardo Hamato."

The guy made no attempt to grasp his hand. "So?"

Leonardo shrugged, but kept his hand out. "Just introducing myself. Being polite."

His opponent looked at his friend, then back at Leonardo. "Yeah, OK, Leonardo. Why don't you go back and do your sleeping exercise or whatever it was you were doing? I'll be by soon to kick your freakygreen ass."

Leonardo brought his hand down and didn't move for a second. Then he bowed slightly and headed back to Master Splinter.

"These guys...aren't so nice," he told him.

"Ah - so the battle begins early with these two," said Master Splinter.

"Battle...what do you mean?"

"They were no doubt rude. Did they also predict a victory?"

Leonardo rubbed his shoulder. "Well, sort of."

Splinter smiled. "You see? They have already begun the battle, psychologically. They wish you to worry, and they hope that will cause you to falter in your training."

Looking a bit alarmed, Leonardo said, "Will it?"

"The chances are less, now that you know that is what they are attempting to do. You still have a bit of time. Perhaps you should meditate a little more. I will rouse you when it is about time."

Leonardo glanced back at them. "Hm."

Splinter looked concerned. "What is it, my son?" Suddenly his brow cleared. "I see. They commented upon your earlier meditation, did they not?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

Smiling again, Splinter said, "I have learned much about human behavior in my years, my son - and more importantly, I've learned your behavior. Leonardo, do not let anything these two say dissuade you from doing anything you wish. They are your opponents, for one round, and win or lose, you will not see them again afterward. If you feel you can benefit from meditation, by all means, do so."

Leonardo shook his head. "You're right. What do I care what they think? And shame on me for acting so... human-like." Splinter smiled in spite of himself. "Thanks, sensei." He walked back over to where he sat before and resumed the lotus position. He glanced over at where the two stood chatting. Their eyes met, and Leonardo smiled at them before closing his eyes.

A few minutes later, he felt Splinter's hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes, and looked up into Splinter's face. He smiled, and suddenly felt very much at peace. No matter what was going on, just being with Splinter seemed to make everything all right. He got to his feet, loosened his ankles a bit, and prepared for the bout.

Once in position, he bowed to his opponent ("whatever his name is", Leonardo thought), then to the judge. He noticed the insincerity in Eleven's bow, but didn't have much time to think about it, because the second the bout began, he was being rushed. Eleven tried a right sideswipe, which Leonardo quickly blocked, then immediately followed with a kick to his left. Again, Leonardo blocked the move, but that move was immediately followed by yet another maneuver he had to avoid. This guy may be cocky, but he knows his stuff, Leonardo thought. After the fifth blocked maneuver, Eleven hesitated - possibly no one had ever blocked all five of those moves in a row before. Whatever his reasons, Leonardo took the opportunity, and delivered a blow to his chest. He waited until he heard the judge award the point, but he had to pick it out from the sudden light round of applause. It wasn't until Leonardo walked back to his position that he realized that the crowd had been cheering...apparently for him. Maybe the rest of the crowd knew what a jerk this guy was. Leonardo shook his head, bent forwards and touched the floor a few times. He had to clear his head again.

Coming back up, he took a breath and faced his opponent. He saw Eleven's composure already slipping - his jaw was set, but his eyes were wide. He was somewhere between mad and scared. Excellent, thought Leonardo. He bowed to Eleven, then to the judge, then leapt across the mat towards his opponent. Eleven hardly had time to bring his arms in front before Leonardo had unleashed a fury of blows. Eleven managed to block them, but it allowed Leonardo the time to leap up and deliver a side kick to his chest. As Leonardo landed, he watched Eleven go down on his butt, and he allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.

* * *

"Sensei! Over here!" Jake waved wildly, and Master Yenchiki and Laurie, now back in street clothes, came over. 

"Laurie, you did great!" said Jake enthusiastically.

Michelangelo nodded. "You were fabuloso!"

Laurie stared uncertainly at Michelangelo. "Um, thanks."

Jake handled the introductions. "This is Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael, and Casey. Guys, Master Yenchiki and Laurie." Casey just waved, but the turtles stood up and bowed, as Master Splinter had taught them to do. Laurie and Jake both looked a bit surprised by this, but Master Yenchiki simply bowed back and smiled. Jake picked up the conversational thread. "Quarterfinals - that's as far as I got last year."

"Yeah, I was actually pretty stoked, but then, who do I end up against? Richard Roberts."

"Well, you did your best."

"But I still got whipped 2-0."

Master Yenchiki put his hand on her shoulder. "Don't concern yourself, Laurie. You have made amazing progress in the last year." He turned to look back up at Jake. "Did you learn anything from that opponent of yours?"

Jake grinned. "Yeah, and I'm still learning. He's still out there."

"Indeed?"

Pointing towards the center of the gym, he said, "That's him. The other...um..."

"Turtle," finished Raphael. "Say it, Jake - 'turtle'."

Jake smiled. "Um, turtle."

"See?" Raphael grinned. "It's not so hard."

Master Yenchiki looked out at Leonardo, who was doing tai chi exercises in an effort to calm himself down. "He certainly appears to have a mastery of himself."

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," said Donatello.

"Wow," said Jake, scanning the gym, "remember that last competition, when the semis were all Bushidos?"

"Yeah," said Laurie.

"Well, they've only got five this time around."

"Really?"

"Yeah, look - Richard, Felipe, John, Sam and Greg."

Laurie looked out over the gym. "Who are the other three?"

"Leonardo - that's the, uh, turtle - John Thomasson, and some new guy. William something-or-other."

"Cool. I don't remember John ever making it this far," said Laurie, staring across the gym at him.

"I don't think he has. And check it out - none of the Bushidos are facing each other this round, so we could end up with just one of them in the finals."

Laurie made a rude sound with her lips. "Yeah, dream on."

* * *

"Is it all right if we watch from over there?" asked Leonardo, indicating where his next match would be. 

"If you wish," Splinter said, half-bowing.

"I'm...not crazy about waiting."

Splinter smiled. "I would imagine not." They began heading over. "Your match is second of the four, so you at least will not have to wait too long."

"True." They arrived at the designated area, and Leonardo was mildly surprised to see his next opponent already there. He wasn't surprised, however, to see him decked out in a Bushido uniform.

Felipe and a friend had been watching Richard and Greg line up for their rather unimportant match - everyone knew that Greg would be no match for Richard, even had Greg wanted to put up a fight. As Leonardo and Splinter approached, Felipe turned around, and his eyes went wide.

"You!" he yelled.

Leonardo gaped. "Me what?"

"Oh, nothing - forget it." He turned back around slowly, but continued glancing over his shoulder at Leonardo.

What was that all about, he thought, as Richard and Greg began their match. And why is it bothering me? People act like that around me all the time. No, wait, they act shocked to see a mutant, but this guy wasn't shocked to see a mutant. He was shocked to see me. He's seen me before, and wasn't expecting to see me here. Where could I have met this guy before? It's not like I get out a lot, or know that many humans. The only time any of us run into any humans is at the library, or the store. Of course, back when we went on patrol, we'd...

That's it!

"Sensei!" said Leonard excitedly, but keeping his voice down. "I know that guy."

"Your next opponent?"

"Yeah! About a year ago, when we busted up the Foot gathering in that warehouse? He was one of the leaders!"

Splinter looked intrigued, if not convinced. "You believe so?"

"I'm pretty sure. And that's why he reacted that way - he's seen me before."

"That does make sense. Excellent reasoning, Leonardo. Do you fear facing him again?"

"Not at al. I beat him before, right?"

"With your katana, and the element of surprise." Splinter held up a warning finger. "Do not allow yourself to become overconfident, my son."

"Right." Leonardo smiled quickly, then sat down on the mat, pulled his legs up into lotus position, and cleared his mind. Splinter glanced down at him, smiling, then absently looked back at the match in progress. Richard was already up one to nothing, and Greg looked resigned to losing. It didn't even look like they were casually sparring. Splinter shook his head. Why the facade? Why did Richard not simply state the match be over?

After a few more unexciting maneuvers, the match was indeed over. Splinter put his hand to Leonardo's shoulder until he opened his eyes, then helped him to his feet. "Good luck, my son."

"Thanks, sensei." Leonardo walked over to Felipe and tapped him on the shoulder.

"What?" Felipe sounded shocked and suspicious.

"Um..." Leonardo suddenly wasn't sure if it was such a good idea to say anything. Finally, he decided he might as well. "It's good to see you...here, Felipe." He held out his hand. "Good luck."

Uncertainly, Felipe shook his hand. "Um, thanks."

Leonardo decided to leave it at that. He smiled a bit, then headed back to his corner.

The match with Felipe went surprisingly fast, even for Leonardo. Somehow, he was expecting more of a fight from him. But perhaps that brawl in the warehouse had spooked Felipe more than Leonardo had thought. Less than a minute later, he was shaking Felipe's hand once more. Felipe managed a small smile - at least it appeared he didn't hold a grudge.

"Best of luck against Richard - you're gonna need it," he murmured.

Leonardo smiled. "Thanks." He walked back to Splinter

"Another opponent defeated, my son. Well done."

"Thanks. I guess this next one's the big one, though."

"I believe there is one more level before the final bout," said Splinter uncertainly.

"No, I mean my next opponent. Some guy named Richard Roberts. He's supposed to be the one to beat."

"Excellent."

Leonardo looked confused. "Why is that excellent?"

"Consider. Even if you are defeated by him, that is not unexpected. There is certainly no shame in being defeated by he who is considered to be the best."

"Hm, I guess not." Leonardo frowned. "You think this is where it all ends for me, then?"

Splinter smiled slightly. "I cannot judge, my son, as I have not observed Richard in any of his bouts. At least, not one in which his opponent put up any sort of resistance. But do not concern yourself with such thoughts. What was your purpose in participating here?"

"To spar with someone new." Leonardo smiled. "And I've done that. Five times already." Leonardo bowed slightly to Splinter. "Thanks for reminding me. I'm not here to win." His smile got wider. "Not that I'd mind."

"No, I imagine not." Splinter scanned the gym. "Is your next bout in the same place?"

"I think so. That's Robert over there. Hm."

"What is it, my son?"

"Should I even bother introducing myself to him?"

Splinter frowned slightly. "Why should he be any different from your other opponents?"

Leonardo considered. "Why indeed?" He walked over to where Richard stood idly chatting with a group of other Bushido students. Leonardo summoned a smile and said, "Richard?"

Richard was taller than pretty much every other sixteen-year-old, which meant he towered over Leonardo. He looked down his nose at him and snarled, "OK, freak, lemme set you straight on a few things here. A couple of the guys say you got some moves, but that doesn't matter. This is as far as you go. This match, you're going down, and going down hard."

"I don't..."

Richard pointed at Leonardo. "Shut up, freak, I ain't done. You look like you're fresh from the sideshow, which is probably why you don't have proper respect for the Bushido dojo, and for me. So let me clue you in a bit. This here is the seventh karate tournament in New York this year, and I won the first six. And my streak ain't ending because some animal escaped from the zoo and learned to throw a few kicks. You got it?"

Leonardo straightened himself, smiled a bit, and bowed formally from his waist. He then turned on his heel and walked back to Splinter just as an older man in a black Bushido uniform came up.

"Richard, what is going on?"

"Nothing, master. Don't worry about it."

"You know how I dislike you riling your opponents..."

Smiling, Richard said, "Master, relax, OK? It's nothing."

The man shook his head and walked back to the sideline. He had stopped warning Richard about his attitude. And unless the Head Master decided to raise the issue, there was really nothing he could do.

* * *

Leonardo bowed to Richard (which, as he guessed, was hardly returned), then to the judge, and then adopted his defensive stance. He was not surprised to see Richard instantly leap across the mat to attack. Leonardo blocked a blow to his chest, and then one to his legs. He then felt a blow to his side, and immediately felt himself sprawled out on the mat. Ouch, he thought, I didn't even see that coming. Quickly, he figured out how he had been misled - of course! Why didn't he see that coming? Still, it was an excellent move by Richard. 

Leonard got to his feet and smiled. "Great move, Richard," he said.

Richard wasn't really expecting the compliment, but he took it in stride. "Pay close attention, freak, 'cause I got three more to show ya."

They headed back to their positions, and Leonardo looked over at Splinter. Splinter held up his clenched fists, then slowly opened them. Leonardo understood - relax, don't stay tense. He nodded and turned to face Richard. Once more they bowed to each other, and Leonardo was heartened by the fact that Richard's bow was a bit more polite this time. As he bowed to the judge, he thought, Splinter's right - the more polite you are, the more polite others are. The thought was brief, because Richard was already attacking. This time Leonardo went straight into defense mode, and blocked a succession of four different blows, delivered nonstop. Leonardo felt a slight sense of finality while the fourth blow was being delivered - like that was the last of the lot - so as soon as he had blocked it, he gave his own shot to the chest. It connected, and Richard's jaw dropped. As the judge awarded the point to Leonardo, Richard grimaced and stomped back to his position. Leonardo let out his breath. Wow, Richard was already letting his composure slip - he had expected more from a six-time champion. He stole a glance at Splinter, who held his hands up, palms down and slowly spread them apart. Leonardo knew what that meant - stay the course. He nodded slightly and got back into position.

After the bows were exchanged, again Leonardo let Richard attack him. Another flurry of blows came down, and once more Leonardo blocked them in turn. Leonardo ducked down and bent his knees to block the fifth one, and again sensing that the attack was over, he leapt up and delivered a sidekick to Richard's chest. The kick was powerful enough to knock Richard down, and Leonardo stood impassively as Richard leapt back onto his feet. For a second, Leonardo wondered if Richard was going to charge him, but Richard snorted and went back to his corner.

It didn't surprise Leonardo at all that Richard had given up all sign of politeness in his bows by this point. It did surprise him somewhat that he didn't change his tactics any - once more, Richard sprung out of his corner and began showering him with blows. As Leonardo crouched slightly to deflect the second blow, he recognized the pattern - this was the same group he delivered at the outset. Leonardo had no trouble avoiding the shot to his side this time, and immediately found an opening to the opposite side at the same time. He connected, and Richard was stunned - not only was he successfully attacked again, but this time his opponent didn't even bother waiting for him to finish his maneuvers. For a few seconds, they stood staring at each other, and Leonardo wondered if he had ever seen so much hate on a face before. Not since Shredder, he decided. Finally, Richard growled in frustration and headed back.

Leonardo took a bit of time getting back to his spot as he considered his next move. He was up a full point, which gave him some wiggle room. He decided to attack Richard directly this time - a bit risky, but he figured if it didn't work, he would still be on top. When he bowed to Richard, he began a very quiet noise deep in his throat, which got slightly louder as he bowed to the judge. Upon turning to his opponent, he suddenly sprang forward, as his guttural howl got increasingly loud. He noticed Richard's panicked look, and more or less switched to autopilot. As he yelled from the base of his spine, he faked a move towards Richard's legs, which Richard instinctively made a move to block. Instead Leonardo leapt into the air and struck Richard square below the neck with his right foot, sending him flying backwards a few feet. As Leonardo landed on his knee, he suddenly heard a roar. Looking around, he saw his brothers, Casey...the whole audience was cheering! Suddenly he understood. No one liked the same guy winning all the time, especially when he was such a jerk. Apparently, a lot of people were hoping he'd take a fall, and Leonardo has just taken him out in grand style. He allowed himself a satisfied smile - it did feel good taking him out.

Leonardo waited for Richard to get up, which he finally did. He didn't appear hurt, but Leonardo now saw even more hatred on Richard's face. They exchanged bows, then bowed to the judge, and Leonardo stepped forward to shake his hand. Richard was having none of it, however, and immediately stormed off, leaving Leonardo staring after him.

"Do not concern yourself with his behavior," said the man in the black Bushido uniform. "He has been setting himself up for a fall for some time now."

Leonardo turned to face him. "Are you his sensei?" he asked.

"I am one of the teachers at the Bushido Academy. Master Hideyo is my name."

Leonardo bowed formally to him. "I am Leonardo Hamato. It is a great honor to meet you, Master Hideyo."

Master Hideyo returned the bow. "It is I who am honored, Leonardo. To be honest, we had let Richard grow far too confident in his own abilities. We believed that sooner or later, he would discover he was not as invincible as he had believed, and I thank you for giving that lesson."

Splinter came up beside Leonardo, and Leonardo introduced him. "Master Hideyo, my sensei, Master Hamato."

They exchanged bows, and Splinter said, "Perhaps I did not hear correctly. Were you thanking my student for teaching your student a lesson?"

Master Hideyo smiled. "Indeed. I had been hoping Richard would receive a lesson in humility."

Splinter leaned slightly on his walking stick. Leonardo was all too familiar with that stance - Splinter was angry, although no anger came through in his voice. "Am I to understand that you waited for a student to teach your student this lesson?"

Master Hideyo looked rather embarrassed. "Well, I'm afraid that that is true, after a fashion."

"Should it not have been you, or one of the other teachers, who should have done this?"

"You are correct, Master Hamato, and it was my fervent wish that we would do so. However, Master Ikani, the head of the Red Dragon Academy, did not believe it wise."

"And why is that?"

"He felt that by dealing him a humiliating blow, it would damage his self-esteem. He might then stop winning competitions, and that this would reflect poorly upon the school." Master Hideyo looked sad. "Master Ikani felt that Richard's victories reflected the glory of the school, and thus gave our school more prestige."

Splinter looked around the gym. "There seemed to be a fair number of students here with your uniform on. Do you have difficulty finding students for your school?"

"Oh, no," said Master Hideyo proudly. "In fact, we can afford to be somewhat selective in who we take."

"I see." Master Splinter frowned. "In order to advertise for your school - advertising that appears to be unnecessary - you refused a student an important lesson. You no doubt are aware that he is suffering much turmoil right now."

Master Hideyo was shocked that someone would speak to him in such a way, but at the same time the words reflected what he had told himself many times. "Oh. You...you're probably right."

"Should you not go talk to him?"

"Of course. My apologies. If you'll excuse me?" Master Hideyo bowed quickly to each of them, and then hurried away.

Leonardo looked shocked. "Now you're giving the other masters lessons."

Master Splinter sighed and started to lead his pupil to the sidelines. "You are right. Perhaps I am stepping on toes by doing so. But that child has been scarred heavily by what has happened. This is something he will never forget, or perhaps even recover from."

Leonardo looked down. "Then...I shouldn't have fought him like that?"

"No, my son, do not blame yourself. You simply defeated him - that was what you were supposed to do. It was his school, his teachers, who put him in the precarious position where a single loss, any loss, would topple his fragile life, like a house of cards. Had you not defeated him today, someone else, perhaps today, perhaps some other day, would have done so." Splinter regarded Leonardo for a minute. "How would you have felt had you lost your first match?"

"My first one? Well, I would've felt pretty bad if he beat me with some easy maneuvers..."

"True, but if you were well-matched?"

"And he just beat me? Not happy, but...otherwise fine, I guess."

"Yes. Richard, on the other hand, was in a position where he could not lose. To anyone, at any time. Any loss would have proven exceptionally harmful to his ego. Richard is obviously an excellent karate student. With decent instruction, he would not only be an excellent fighter, but an excellent human being as well."

"You seem pretty worried about him, sensei."

Splinter shook his head. "Great oaks from little acorns grow, my son. It is from such beginnings that people like Orugu Saki are made. And when they can be prevented, it is all the more heartbreaking."

"Hm. Now I feel bad about feeling so good about beating him."

"You did very well against a formidable opponent, Leonardo. You have every right to feel proud about your performance. Do not let it distract you from your next opponent."

"Wow." Leonardo's eyes got wide. "I was so focused on Richard that I forgot what happened afterwards. Who am I fighting?"

Splinter indicated the match currently underway. "Presumably the winner of this match."

Leonardo watched, wide-eyed. A smallish guy with long blonde hair had just scored with a flying kick, putting him up one to nothing. To Leonardo's surprise, he wasn't wearing a Bushido uniform, but rather a grey uniform with a black geometric insignia. He was making short work of Sam, a Bushido student who had the misfortune to get to the finals along with Richard. Now with Richard out, the hopes of the entire Bushido Academy rested on his shoulders. Sam had only been in a few competitions, and had finished in the middle of the pack every time. These things conspired to hamstring Sam just when he needed all his facilities about him. Leonardo watched as the shorter student earned another quick half-point. Heck, it wasn't whether this guy could find an opening - it was which opening he chose to take.

Leonardo walked to the other end of the gym, and glanced up at the large elimination chart on the wall, and allowed himself a small proud smile as he saw his name snake along the lower right of the chart all the way to the final round. Then he looked to see who his opponent would be. William Rubinson, from the Kihon Karate Academy. Leonardo smiled, thinking of various ways he could block William's attacks.


	11. Eleven

A loud burst of applause brought Leonardo back to reality. William had won his match, and the crowd - at least, those without connections to the Bushido academy - seemed very pleased with the results. Leonardo waited until William had shaken hands with his sensei, and his fellow students, before approaching him.

"Hi," was all Leonardo got out, before William's eyes went wide.

"Hey, it's the green guy!" William said, shaking his hand. "I saw you fighting earlier today - you got some good moves!"

"Thanks," said Leonardo, very surprised at his friendliness. "You, too. Just wanted to say best of luck in the final match."

"Hey, thanks. I hear this Richard guy's a monster, but I think I might be able to take him."

"Take him? Oh, I guess you didn't see - you won't be facing Richard."

"Wha'?" William looked up at the big board. "Leonardo Hamato...who's that?"

Leonardo gave a lopsided smile. "Me."

"You?" William turned around, with a big smile on his face. "That means...you took out Richard?"

"Yeah."

"A Bushido-less final, huh?" Leonardo nodded, and William went on. "Well, Leonardo, looks like we've broken the Bushido stranglehold. I'd say we've already won!" He held up his hand high, but Leonardo didn't really know what that meant. After a short pause, William said, "Hey, don't leave me hanging here!" Suddenly understanding, Leonardo slapped his upraised hand and grinned.

"Look, I'll let you prepare for the match," said Leonardo. "Best of luck."

"Thanks - you too! Let's show these people what real karate's like!" He gave Leonardo a huge grin before turning away.

Leonardo walked back to Splinter, smiling. "Another friendly opponent?" asked Splinter.

"Yes, very."

"That is most heartening."

"Yeah. I guess I wouldn't mind so much losing to him."

"Do you believe you will lose to him?" asked Splinter.

Leonardo shook his head. "I don't think so. I think I can find a way to defeat him." He sat down and got into the lotus position, trying to clear his head. He was starting to obsess about finding a way to block some of the moves he had seen, and obsessing rarely proved to be a good idea. Leonardo tried to center himself, and tried to stop thinking so much.

He felt Splinter's hand on his shoulder soon afterwards, and Leonardo frowned to himself. He still didn't feel entirely ready. But it wasn't like he could ask everyone to wait until his brain was sorted out. He stood up, walked to his designated side of the sparring area, and waited for the match to be announced. Once the formalities were over, Leonardo bowed to William, and noticed a smile on his face as he did so. He wondered about that as he bowed to the judge. Was it friendliness? Self-confidence? Was he trying to psyche him out? As William approached him, he suddenly realized that he was still obsessing. Focus, he thought. He blocked William's first two attacks, but was too slow getting his arm up for the third. Leonardo inwardly chastised himself for letting his guard slip, but smiled at William before heading back to his corner. He glanced over at Splinter, who closed his eyes and put his hands together. Leonardo knew that meant "focus", and he couldn't help smiling and shaking his head at that.

Splinter opened his eyes, surprised. "What is it, my son?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying so hard to focus, I can't focus."

"Ah, yes. The eternal paradox."

"It's OK, sensei. I'll be fine." Leonardo reached his corner, stared up at the ceiling, exhaled loudly, then faced his opponent squarely. After exchanging bows with him and the judge, he again let William come attack him. He blocked several attacks, looking for William to leave an opening. On a few occasions, he spotted one, but they were extremely fleeting - William certainly knew how to attack without leaving himself vulnerable. Finally, Leonardo decided to make a move, but William managed to block the side blow. The maneuver left Leonardo somewhat open himself, and William didn't let the opportunity go to waste. He came in from above with his left hand, delivering a solid blow to Leonardo's side. Leonardo inwardly groaned - he should've seen that coming - but again he put on a good face for William.

Once he was back in his corner, he took a second to go down on his haunches and think things over. He was down one to nothing, and worse, he had allowed William to take control of the match. No more, promised Leonardo, as he rose back up to a standing position. After completing his bows, he leapt forward, meeting William halfway down the mat. Their blows came almost simultaneously, canceling each other out, but Leonardo was the first one ready with a counter-attack. His hand struck William's chest, knocking him somewhat off balance. This time, it was William who gave Leonardo a smile as he headed back to his corner. Leonardo smiled, too. This was almost like sparring Michelangelo - intense, but also kind of fun.

Encouraged by his point, Leonardo decided to try the same tactic again. Once more, he leapt forward and met William coming the other way, but this time, they both stopped just short of each other. Leonardo, noticing the hesitation and the indecision in William's position, pressed the attack. William managed to block the first two attacks, but the third one landed.

As he walked back to his corner, Leonardo considered the situation. He had tied the match, and now no longer felt himself up against the wall - a good time to try a direct attack. As he began his bowing, he also started the inner growl deep in his throat. The second the match began, he howled and ran forward. William's eyes got wide, but he didn't let his training slip. As Leonardo approached, William turned sideways and leapt forward, narrowly avoiding Leonardo's first blow as it came by. Immediately, he brought his right foot up and kicked Leonardo's shell as he passed, knocking him to the ground. Leonardo ended up sprawled out on the mat face down. He instantly got back up and looked over at William with wide eyes. William gave him a smirk - not an unfriendly one, but more one that said, "So, what do you think of that?" Leonardo just stared, then shook his head as he returned to his corner.

As he exchanged bows yet again, he felt himself moving on autopilot. At first, he started to berate himself for acting without thinking, but then he suddenly thought - isn't that what being centered is? Doing it all without having to think? Perhaps he needed to remain there, let the moves come naturally, and not force his brain into making the moves. It was worth a try. After bowing to the judge, he stepped forward slowly, and watched as William jumped up and attempted a flying kick at his midsection. Leonardo instinctively dropped to his knees, knocked Williams' leg out of the way, and delivered a blow to his chest as he fell. Now it was William's turn to stare at Leonardo. Leonardo simply smiled slightly before heading back.

Master Splinter called it "entering the selfless state". Michelangelo called it "zoning out". But whatever it was called, that's where Leonardo was. Upon letting himself go, he had finally achieved that perfect focus that he had sought. He was completely focused, but somehow above it all. It was situations like this that almost scared Leonardo afterwards (and always scared his opponents at the time). He sometimes wasn't even sure it was he that made the decisions - his body moved automatically. After the bows were exchanged, both William and Leonardo simply stared at each other in attack position, feeling each other out, waiting for the other to make a move. After a short pause, Leonardo cautiously stepped forward, and William did likewise. Then, all at once, they both leapt forward and began attacking. Leonardo remained impassive, continuously scanning for openings, without being aware that he was doing so. Without really thinking, his body blocked several blows, some simple, some complex. One or two he had never encountered before, but his body responded reflexively and stopped them all. Suddenly, Leonardo knew - he had found an opening. He knew better than to second-guess that feeling, and he also knew he couldn't count on waiting for another one. He suddenly spun around and kicked just below chest level, catching William just before a block moved into place. William's eyes grew wide, as the judge announced Leonardo's victory. Leonardo stood in defensive position as William took a step back and bowed to him. With a sudden shiver, Leonardo came back to earth, and hurriedly bowed back. He bowed to the judge, then stepped forward, hand outstretched.

"That was incredible!" Leonardo said, smiling.

William laughed and shook his hand. "What - me? You were downright scary, dude!" He clapped Leonardo on the shoulder.

* * *

"No, see, that's what I thought at first," said William as they entered the locker room. "It seems like you should lean back, but actually, you lean forwards."

"Wouldn't that put you in a..." Leonardo's voice trailed away. There was only one other person in the locker room - Richard. He was wearing his street clothes, but otherwise looked as angry as he had at the end of his last match. Leonardo stared at him for a second, then stepped forwards with his hand outstretched.

"Hey, Richard - good match."

Richard made no move to take his hand. "How old are you?"

Leonardo wasn't ready for the question. "How old am I?" he asked, dropping his hand back to his side.

"Yeah, how old are you?" Richard repeated. "Twenty-five?"

"C'mon, Richard, I'm not twenty-five."

"No kid could fight like that."

Master Splinter stepped around William and Leonardo and regarded Richard for a minute. Then he turned back to them. "Kids," he said softly.

Leonardo nodded and headed back out the way he came, leading William as he went.

"What's going on?" asked William, but Leonardo just shook his head and herded him out.

Master Splinter once again turned to face Richard. He sighed quietly. "Please have a seat." He indicated the bench between the lockers.

"What for?" said Richard, leaning against the lockers.

"Please." Splinter was by no means an attractive creature, but he did have a charisma about him that often enabled him to bend others to his will somewhat. Richard stared at Splinter for a second, then reluctantly dropped himself onto the bench. Splinter sat down at the other end, smiling slightly.

"I apologize - my foot has had a bit too much standing today." Splinter laid his walking stick across his lap. "To answer your question, Richard, we do not know for certain how old Leonardo and his brothers are."

"So he could be twenty-five."

"Leonardo and his brothers were not born in the traditional sense," Splinter explained. "They began their lives as ordinary turtles, but about eight years ago, they underwent a mutation, as did I. It is difficult to judge their corresponding human ages. I would say they are certainly over the age of ten, but I don't believe they have reached the age of twenty yet. I would estimate that they are about fifteen or sixteen."

Richard didn't look mollified. "But they could be older."

Splinter shrugged. "It is certainly possible. But judging from their physical and mental progress, I would say fifteen is a close approximation."

"If you don't know how old he is, he shouldn't be allowed in these competitions. It's not fair."

Smiling slightly, Splinter said, "We are normally told that we are not good enough to participate in human activities. I suppose being told we are too good to do so is a step in the right direction."

"It's not fair!" said Richard again, louder. "That trophy should've been mine."

Splinter grew serious. "Richard, you must let go."

"What're you talking about?"

"I feel your teachers have neglected to teach you some important lessons. You need to let go. Of everything. Your match with Leonardo. Your yearning for the trophy. Your insatiable drive to win. This is something they should have corrected in your training some time ago."

Richard jumped up. "You're saying they're as screwed up as me."

"Observe yourself, Richard. You are in the locker room after a competition - a competition in which you placed third - and you are arguing with another sensei. This is not the behavior of a black belt karate student." Splinter sighed again. "Ask Master Hideyo to complete your training."

Richard slammed his fist against the lockers. "If you freaks hadn't been here, I would've won my seventh, which no one's done before. I'm not gonna let you freaks take it away from me." He turned and stormed out.

Master Splinter watched him go, then got to his feet and opened the door to the gym. Leonardo and William filed back in.

"Is he gone?" asked William.

"Yes, he is."

"Did you tell him off?"

Splinter smiled good-naturedly. "No, William, I did not. I planted some seeds, and can only hope they will take root. If you will change, Leonardo - it will not do to keep your brothers waiting."

* * *

Raphael turned and saw Splinter switching the Casey's duffle bag to his other shoulder. Stepping up to him, he held out his hand. "Here, sensei - I'll take that."

"Thank you, my son." He handed the bag to Raphael and readjusted his grip on his walking stick.

"Are you OK?"

Splinter smiled. "It has been a somewhat draining day for me, Raphael, both physically and emotionally."

"Really?"

"It has been some time since I spent the day interacting with people. I suppose I am simply out of practice. I believe I will be fine once we get home." His smile widened. "And I cannot tell you how pleased I am to call our current residence 'home'."

Raphael grinned. "Y'know what? Me too. Funny how quickly you get used to stuff."

Suddenly, they heard a sound from the other end of the lobby. Someone was shouting something towards them, and they both looked over confusedly. A woman who appeared to be in her forties was waving at them. "Mister Hamato!" she yelled, pronouncing it like "hammer toe." "Mister Hamato!" She hurried over to where they stood, and Master Splinter smiled slightly at her.

"I thought I'd missed you," she said. She was dressed in a business suit, and had the look of someone who was perpetually busy. "I need to talk to you for a minute, if I could, Mister Hamato."

Raphael said, "Um, it's Ha-MAH-to, actually."

"Raphael," said Splinter. Raphael knew what that tone of voice meant - he'd done something wrong. He looked over at Splinter, somewhat surprised, and Splinter went on. "What have I said about the spoken word?"

Raphael said, slightly grumbling, "They're just noises. And I shouldn't worry if someone mispronounces my name. Or yours, either, I guess."

"Correct. And what else?"

"Um..." Raphael thought for a second, then hazarded a guess. "I guess I interrupted you, even though you really hadn't started talking yet."

"Technically correct, but yes."

"Sorry, sensei." Raphael half-bowed.

Splinter turned back to the woman. "I apologize, but one must take advantage of lessons as they arise." He smiled again. "How may I help you?"

"Actually, Mr...Ha-MAH-to, that's sort of what I wanted to talk to you about. Oh, here you are, teaching your student manners, and where are mine? I'm Susan Wohfield."

"A pleasure, Ms Wohfield," said Splinter, bowing slightly.

Ms Wohfield went on, in a rush. "My son Jeremy has been with the Bushido Academy for ten years - this is his last year. My younger son Austin has only been in for two - he's eleven now - but people have been talking, you know. This and that. It's always good to keep your options open, so we've been keeping an eye out."

Sensing a pause, Master Splinter felt some response was in order. However, he had no idea how he was supposed to respond. After a short time, he said, "Oh?" mainly because he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"So, currently, do you have any openings?"

"Openings?" Splinter repeated, still very confused.

"At your academy. Austin has piano on Mondays, so that's out. He's going to be doing Little League this year, too, but I'm sure we can work around that."

Suddenly, Master Splinter's eyes opened a bit wider. "Oh. I see. You would like me to instruct your child. I apologize, Ms Wohfield, I did not understand."

"Oh, that's all right. We all cane get lost sometimes."

"I am afraid that, currently, I am only instructing my four charges." Splinter vaguely indicated Raphael's brothers, who were standing several yards away, chatting.

Ms Wohfield looked over at them. "Oh my," she muttered quietly. "A whole herd of them." Raphael had only gotten out "a h-" before he noticed Splinter's finger sticking up, warning him - let it go. He swallowed the rest of his comment.

Turning back to face them, Ms Wohfield said, "Surely you could instruct normal kids, too?"

Raphael's jaw dropped. "Normal kids?!" he said, ignoring Splinter's finger this time.

Waving her hand, Ms Wohfield said, "Well, you know what I mean."

Splinter put his hand on Raphael's elbow. "Raphael, please join your brothers." Raphael stared at him, speechless, then shook his head and walked off. "I apologize, Ms Wohfield."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Mr Hamato. I'm sure he's not used to dealing with..."

"...normal people, yes," finished Splinter, smiling. "As far as instructing your son, Ms Wohfield, I'm afraid you misunderstand. I have been training my sons as I have been raising them. I am currently not looking to train anyone else."

"Well, I think you've done a wonderful job with them, Mr Hamato. They act so human."

"High praise, indeed," said Splinter, and even he wasn't sure if he was being ironic. This woman appeared to be the master of the backhanded compliment. "You see, Ms Wohfield, I consider my son's martial arts skills to be part of a greater whole. It is part of their upbringing, part of their lives."

Ms Wohfield smiled, a bit impatiently. "Oh, I know, Mr Hamato. I've heard such excellent things about it, and it's done wonders for Jeremy's self-esteem. Austin's just getting started, though. And seeing how great Leonardo is at karate, and how polite your..."

"My kids?" Splinter offered.

"Yes, how polite your kids are, I thought Austin could excel under your instruction."

Master Splinter rarely took compliments well, and flattery he was especially uncomfortable with. "I feel you greatly overestimate my abilities," he said, trying hard not to let his embarrassment show. "My children have benefited greatly from the fact that I have been with them almost constantly the last several years. I do not believe I could have the same effect on a student if I only saw him once a week for an hour or so."

"We could probably make it twice a week," mused Ms Wohfield, "at least until baseball season kicked in."

Splinter sighed inwardly. This woman apparently wasn't about to concede, so Splinter decided he might as well. At least for now. "Very well, Ms Wohfield. I will consider taking on your son. I will have to check my schedule, of course..."

"Oh, of course."

Suddenly, Splinter wondered what he was supposed to do. It'd been a long time since he interacted like this. It finally hit him - get a phone number. "Might I have your phone number? I will telephone you when I have...looked things over."

"Could I just get one of your cards?"

"My cards?" Splinter looked blank for a second. "Oh, business cards. I am sorry - I do not have any."

"Hm. Well, give me your number, and I'll give you a call in a few days." Splinter recited the number he had so recently committed to memory, and Ms Wohfield entered it into her PDA. "Excellent, Mr Hamato. I'll buzz you."

"Thank you. I am honored that you wish your son under my tutelage." Splinter watched as Ms Wohfield scurried out the door.

"Sensei?" called Donatello from the door.

Splinter shook his head and looked up. "I'm sorry, my sons. I was lost in thought." He joined them as they walked out of the gymnasium.


	12. Twelve

William read through the opening paragraph of his essay for the third time. It wasn't bad, but he still wasn't completely satisfied with it. He hadn't exactly been slacking in history class, but for some reason he hadn't done too well on the last two tests. This was the last big assignment before finals, and he wanted to bring his grade up before it was too late. "The five hundred years before Martin Luther..." he mumbled to himself, until the doorbell broke his concentration.

"I'll get it," he yelled. Despite this assurance, his sister Jenny got to the door first. She shot him a smug smile, then opened the door. Upon spying their visitor, however, she stopped cold.

"Uh, hi," said Leonardo uncertainly. "Is William home?"

"Oh, hey, Leonardo!" said William, even more cheerfully than he would have normally. He was happy to have an excuse to stop staring at his essay, and he was even happier with his sister's reaction to his visitor. "Don't mind my sister - come on in."

"Thanks." Leonardo sort of half-bowed to Jenny, and reaching behind him, he lugged the karate trophy into the foyer.

Jenny looked uncertain. "Is this...?"

"He's cool," William said.

Leonardo swung the trophy to his left hand, and held out his right. "Hi. I'm Leonardo."

Slowly, she reached out and shook his hand. "Jenny," she said, sounding more than a little confused.

William walked into the living room, and threw his arm out towards the couch. Leonardo pulled his hand away from Jenny, walked over and sat down, placing the trophy on the floor at his feet. Jenny left the room with more than one backwards glance.

"That looked wrong," William said grinning, collapsing onto a chair.

"What did?"

"You. Shaking hands with Jenny."

Leonardo thought back, frowning. "Why? Did I do it wrong?"

"Hell, I don't know manners. I guess it was proper 'n' all. But none of my friends would shake hands with my sister."

"Why not?"

"Well, because. I don't know." William suddenly stopped smiling. "They just wouldn't do that."

"Splinter says it's polite, and it puts people at ease," Leonard said, somewhat defensively.

"Well, I guess it makes sense for you. Kinda forces people to deal with you." Shaking his head, William added, "Don't worry about it." He nodded towards the trophy. "You here to rub it in some more?"

"What? Oh, the trophy. No. I wanted to see if you wanted it."

"What do you mean? You won."

"Yeah, I know, but Splinter and I talked it over last night. I felt kinda strange about the whole thing. I mean, the whole reason I entered the tournament was to face some new opponents. I didn't mean to win the thing."

"So what? You still won."

Leonardo shook his head. "I don't know. It doesn't feel right. Besides, I've made at least one person really mad by winning this thing that I didn't even really want. So I figure I'll give it to the runner-up."

William regarded the trophy on the floor for a second, then looked back up at Leonardo. "What if the runner-up doesn't want it, either?"

"You don't?"

"Well,I woulda loved to win the thing, and to kick your butt while doing it." William grinned. "But I didn't. If I stuck that trophy in my room...I don't know. Every time I saw it, I'd remember I didn't actually win the thing."

"Hm. I never thought of that."

"I got my second place trophy - and I'm happy enough with it. It'll remind me that we kicked their butts." William looked down at the trophy. "So now what? Toss it in the dumpster out back?"

"Well, if the first-place finisher doesn't want it, and the second-place finisher doesn't want it, I guess I should offer it to the third-place finisher. Richard."

William frowned. "Are you serious?"

"Sure, why not? He's next in line."

"Yeah, but he's already won six of those things this year. He doesn't need another one. Besides, he's a jerk!"

"Well, it seems like he's the only one of us who really wants this thing." Leonardo sort of tapped it with his foot. "Besides, think about it. In his mind, he got cheated out this trophy by some freak. As a result, he hates me, and probably hates every mutant out there. And frankly, we mutants don't need any more hate directed our way. If I give him this thing, it might give him a reason not to hate us so much, and that might help get him over it. Sort of."

Snorting, William said, "Doubtful."

"Possibly. But I'll at least have done everything I can."

William closed his eyes and sighed. "I guess so. But it still feels like we're rewarding him for being an asshole."

"Kind of. But it's not like that's never happened before." Leonardo furrowed his brow. "Do you know where Richard lives?"

"In his own little fantasy world." William laughed a bit at his own joke. "Other than that, no. He goes to my school, but I've never had a class with him or anything."

"Well, I do know where Bushido Academy is, so I can drop it off there. Casey's supposed to come pick me up in about ten minutes. Is it all right if I stay here until then?"

William smirked. "Of course. You're, like, the politest guy on the planet, you know that?"

Leonardo's eyes got wider. "Really? Is it...wrong? Annoying?"

"Nah, not really. I guess some people might say so, but I'll take you over Richard any day."

"We're hoping to start school in January. I don't want to...you know. We'd like to fit in best as we can."

"Starting school? You mean, you're not in school now?" Leonardo shook his head, and William asked, "How'd you swing that one?"

"We never had the opportunity, basically. Splinter's been teaching us everything - 'home schooling', I guess they call it. But we decided we're ready for human school." Suddenly he smiled, embarrassedly. "Well, 'school', I guess I should say. That's a habit we've gotta get out of."

"What?"

"Calling things 'human', like we don't apply."

William suddenly looked embarrassed. "Could I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure."

"How...how turtle are you, really?" Suddenly, William sat up straight. "I mean, that is what you are, right? Part turtle?"

"Yeah. I'm a mutation. Part turtle, part human."

"It's...I dunno. You seem completely human to me. Except like someone painted you green, and glued a big rock to your back."

Leonardo thought a second before responding. People rarely asked him about his mutation, although they were often fascinated by it. Raphael was always offended by the few questions he got, but Splinter had tried to make them see that such inquisitiveness was simple curiosity, nothing more.

"It's part physical only, I guess. We walk upright like humans - more or less - and we've got the human musculature. And we're closer to human size than turtle size. Mentally, emotionally, we're all human, I think. We assume, anyway. I've got no idea how emotional a turtle gets."

"But you can do everything people can do, right?"

"More or less." Leonardo grinned. "I can't sleep on my back. Does that make you feel superior?"

"Um, not really," William said, returning the smile.

"Good. Or I'd see if you could do this." Leonardo threw his head back and withdrew it into his shell. After a second, he reemerged.

William gaped. "Good God!"

"Sorry," said Leonardo, grinning nervously.

"That was freaky as hell, Leonardo."

Leonardo suddenly wondered if he shouldn't have done that. "I won't do it again, I promise. And please, just call me Leo."

"Then just call me Will. As long as you don't do that head thing again." William shuddered.

* * *

Michelangelo came out of Ms Wong's office with a big grin on his face.

"Good news?" asked Leonardo.

Michelangelo grinned at Leonardo. "You're gonna have company. You're looking at Michelangelo, tenth-grade student. Same as you." He hi-fived him as he sat down next to him.

"Raphael?" Ms Wong called from inside the office.

Sighing, Raphael got to his feet. "Good luck, dude," said Michelangelo quietly, and Raphael simply nodded. He squared his shoulders, walked into Ms Wong's office, and closed the door.

Ms Wong smiled. "Won't you have a seat?" she said, indicating the space next to Splinter.

Heavily, Raphael dropped into the chair and glanced over at Splinter. Splinter reached over and put a reassuring hand upon his.

Ms Wong glanced over the paperwork in Raphael's file. "All right, let's see. According to the tests, it would appear your major problem area seems to be math."

Raphael rolled his eyes. "I didn't really need a test to tell me that."

Smiling a bit, Ms Wong said, "No, probably not. However, this means we'd be best off if we started you in the pre-algebra class. I realize that's a few steps below where we're starting your brothers, but it looks like that's where you'd fit in the easiest. Would that be all right?"

"What?" asked Raphael blankly, not at all sure he understood any of that.

"Starting you in Pre-Algebra."

Raphael blinked a few times. "You mean, I did good enough to get in?"

"To get into Pre-Algebra?"

"To get into this school," Raphael clarified.

"Oh, sure. Like I said, your score in math was lower than your brothers, and your science score was a bit off as well, but you certainly did well enough to start off with ninth grade classes."

Raphael pulled his fist in and muttered, "Yes!"

Splinter explained, "Raphael was concerned that he might not score well enough to begin in high school."

"Well, then, I'd say congratulations are in order." Ms Wong smiled, then looked back down at her folder. "So we've picked your math class. Let's see which other classes we can fit you into."

Raphael picked out his class schedule in kind of a daze. He kept bouncing his feet up and down as he looked through the lists. He did it! He was going to be a high school student! He wasn't going to have to go to a different school! Until he had found out, he hadn't really realized how important this was to him.

After his schedule was finalized, Raphael got to his feet and bowed deeply to Ms Wong. "Thank you for giving us this opportunity," he said.

Ms Wong, a bit surprised at this, smiled. "I'm sure we won't regret it, Raphael."

Raphael opened the door to the office and looked over at his brothers. "Well?" asked Michelangelo anxiously.

"Hope you don't mind your stupid brother being one grade below you," Raphael said, smiling.

"You did it?!"

Raphael stood up a bit straighter and bowed slightly. "Raphael Hamato, ninth grader."

"Awright!" They all held up their hands, and Raphael smacked each one in turn as he made his way back to his chair.

"Donatello?" Ms Wong said, and Donatello got to his feet.

"Not as much drama here," said Michelangelo, grinning. Donatello smiled back and entered the office.

Donatello took his seat next to Splinter as Ms Wong opened his folder and examined his scores. "Well, Donatello," she began. "It looks like we've got a little problem on your hands with you."

Stopping short, Donatello opened his eyes wide. "What?"

"For example, on the math portion of the test..." Ms Wong looked at the notes closer, then looked back up. "You missed one."

Donatello's face fell. "I did?"

Smiling a bit, Ms Wong said, "I'm afraid you don't understand. You only missed one. That's the best score I've seen on that section in over five years."

"Oh," said Donatello, but despite the praise, he kept thinking, I thought I got them all. Which one did I miss?

"Your scores for the other subjects weren't quite that high," Ms Wong continued, "but they weren't that far off, either. This sort of places you in a rather strange situation."

"What do you mean, Ms Wong?" asked Splinter.

"Well, I don't see why Donatello shouldn't just take the GED test, skip high school, and go straight on to college."-

Again, Donatello's eyes went wide. "Really?"

Ms Wong spread her hands open. "Your test scores certainly seem to indicate that you can do it."

Excitedly, Donatello whirled around to face Splinter. "Sensei?"

Splinter didn't speak. Instead, he sat with his eyes closed, his hands folded up to his chin as he collected his thoughts. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Donatello. "I believe you would be able to, my son. But that does not mean I believe it is necessarily the wisest decision."

Donatello's face fell a bit. "Really?" he said again.

"You might recall, before we moved, that we talked about the entire purpose of school."

"Yeah, I sort of remember that."

"Do you remember what I told you?"

Closing his eyes, Donatello cast his mind back. "Um...I think you said you were concerned with how we'd interact with other students."

"In essence, yes," Splinter said, nodding. "It is my belief that attending high school will hone your social skills. In addition, you will be exposed to several different teaching methods, so that you will be better prepared to face them in your later education."

"Hm," said Donatello, considering.

"Also, remember that most colleges begin their enrollment processes several months early. Even if you were to attempt to get into a college now, you would probably not be able to begin classes until September." Donatello nodded, and Splinter pressed on. "Then there is also the issue of money. As you know, our finances are rather strained..."

Donatello hung his head, thinking of the litany of reasons Splinter had for not moving straight on. "So you're saying college is out."

"Not at all," said Splinter. "No doubt you could manage to obtain some form of financial aid. But there does not seem to be any rationale into rushing into it. By delaying your entrance into college, this would allow you more time to grow accustomed to being in a school situation, as well as giving you time to investigate financing options for college."

Sighing, Donatello said, "Well, it all makes sense, I guess." Turning back to Ms Wong, he went on. "And, really, I don't mind being in high school or anything. But..." Donatello closed his eyes. "Sorry, I don't know how to say this."

"Say it any way you wish, my son," said Splinter. "We will find the meaning behind your words."

Donatello indicated the papers in front of Ms Wong. "Well, you said I scored pretty high on these tests. So what classes am I gonna take? Does this mean I'm gonna be...you know, bored silly here?"

Ms Wong smiled. "Not unless you choose to be. We'll just have to pick more advanced classes. Certainly there are classes available here in subjects you haven't mastered." She began looking through the coursebook. "Let's start with mathematics, since that was where you scored the highest. You seem to have had no trouble with the few calculus questions on the test, so...have you studied...let's see..." She frowned, scanning the course listings. "How about probability and statistics?"

Donatello shook his head and smiled. "I'm not even sure what that is."

Handing the book over, Ms Wong pointed to the course description. "See if that might be something you feel you could handle."

Donatello scanned the paragraph and considered. "Oh, that sort of stuff. No, I never studied that, so yeah, actually, that might be fun."

"Great," said Ms Wong, trying to remember the last time a student said they thought a math class might be "fun". "Now let's see about an English course."

A few minutes later, Donatello had his course schedule filled, but Ms Wong wasn't finished with him just yet. She pulled out information on where to take the GED test, as well as how to study for it. And once Donatello had added those papers to his stack, she gave him some preliminary sheets explaining where to look for scholarship grants. Donatello was agog - she was doing this all for him? He grabbed all his papers together, stood up, and like Raphael, bowed deeply to Ms Wong. "Thank you so much. I hope we all prove worthy additions to your school."

Again, Ms Wong was surprised by the turtle's formal manners, but she took it in stride. "I'm sure you will. See you after the New Year."

Donatello held the door open for Splinter, then joined him in the hall. Michelangelo smiled up at them. "So, do they have a thirteenth grade just for you?"

"Not quite," said Donatello, rolling his eyes. "But yeah, I'm starting...a bit ahead of you guys."

Leonardo nodded as he got to his feet. "I'd be surprised if you weren't."

Splinter said, "You have all done extremely well, my sons. You have made me very proud." He bowed very low.

After returning the bow, Michelangelo smirked and asked, "How proud? Pete's-Pizza proud?"

Splinter mentally thought of the state of his bank balance. "Yes," he said, smiling back. "I believe that is about the extent of my pride."


	13. Thirteen

Michelangelo sat down on the living room couch, but almost immediately got back up, walked across the room, and checked the mantle for dust. There wasn't any, and he knew it - he had dusted it about an hour ago.

Mr Samuels, who had paused on his way back to his room, watched him briefly. "Michelangelo?" he guessed.

Surprised, Michelangelo spun around, then smiled back at Mr Samuels. "See?" he said. "You start telling us apart by and by."

"I guess you're right." Mr Samuels put both hands on his cane and looked at Michelangelo thoughtfully. "What are you doing?"

Michelangelo sighed. "Fidgeting, I guess. Sensei was supposed to be back hours ago."

"Splinter's a big boy. He can take care of himself."

"Yeah, I know. But he's got an appointment in about ten minutes." Michelangelo nodded toward the clock on the mantle, which read close to ten minutes to one. "What am I supposed to do if she shows up, and Splinter's not even here?"

"Invite her in, sit her down, offer her something to drink," said Mr Samuels, simply. "Tell her Splinter's not here, but should back soon. If he doesn't come back soon, say he'll call her."

Michelangelo's face froze, then fell. "Oh." After a second, he grinned at Mr Samuels. "I guess now I know to ask you these questions before I freak out."

Mr Samuels smiled back. "I keep forgetting you haven't had much practice dealing with other people." He turned towards the front door upon hearing a key enter the lock. The door opened, and Splinter walked in, wearing his good black kimono.

"There you are," said Michelangelo. "I was getting worried."

"Yes, I apologize, my son," said Splinter, bowing his head slightly as he entered the living room. "This took quite a bit longer than I had hoped."

"So you didn't get it, huh?"

Splinter smiled slightly. "There was much paperwork to fill out, several phone calls were made, and April had to be her most charming and persuasive." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. "But they capitulated in the end."

"Really?" Michelangelo took the card from Splinter and looked it over eagerly. It was a New York state driver's license, with Splinter's picture in the lower left corner. "Excellent!"

Donatello walked in, looking puzzled. "What's excellent?" Michelangelo handed the card to him, and he glanced it over before looking up and grinning. "You're official?"

"It would appear that way, yes," said Splinter. "They would only issue me a provisionary license..."

"What's that mean?" asked Michelangelo.

"To put it simply, they have put me on a rather short leash," Splinter answered, his smile becoming somewhat rueful. "I have fewer 'points' than most new drivers, which means that I must keep my driving record clean. And I must renew it earlier than I would otherwise."

Mr Samuels snorted. "What do they think you'll do? Drive on the sidewalk? Lead the cops on a high-speed chase?"

"Honestly, Mr Samuels, I wondered that myself." Splinter took the card back from Donatello and put it back in his pocket. "I passed the driving exam with no problems. However, one must not complain. I have the license, and that is more than I ever would have expected even three months ago." He bowed deeply to Donatello. "And of course, I have you to thank for that, my son."

"Me?" said Donatello.

"Had you not first planted the seeds of discontent, we would still be living in the sewers. It was your actions that indirectly led to this. So I thank you."

Donatello grinned lopsidedly. He wasn't much better at taking praise than Splinter was. "Uh, thanks. Did you have lunch?"

"No, I did not. I had no opportunity to do so. However, I believe Ms Wohfield will be here shortly, and it will not do to be eating when she arrives. My meal can wait until after our appointment."

"How about tea, then?"

Splinter considered. "That would be quite welcome. Thank you."

As Donatello headed back to the kitchen, Mr Samuels said "Well, I guess congratulations are in order, even if they did stiff you on the license a bit." He rubbed his eyes, then shook his head. "I'm gonna go lie down." Smiling a bit, he added, "Never had this problem before you guys moved in and started fixing tasty lunches."

"I'll attempt to keep our interview as quiet as possible, Mr Samuels," said Splinter, bowing slightly.

"Aw, don't worry 'bout that. I ain't sleeping - just lying down. See you in a bit."

As Mr Samuels headed down the hall, Splinter turned to Michelangelo. "Where are your brothers?"

"Out back - still trying to get that fence back in shape."

"Ah, that's good. Might I call on you to assist me in my interview?"

"Me? How?"

"Ms Wohfield will be bring her son...Austin, I believe his name is. I will need to find out just how far he has advanced in his studies. This is most easily done if he can spar with someone while I observe his technique."

"Oh, I see. You want me to be his punching bag" asked Michelangelo, smirking.

"In essence, yes," said Splinter, smiling back. He looked down at his kimono. "I was originally going to change before she arrived, but I suppose it would be just as well to leave this on."

Michelangelo shrugged. "I always thought you looked cool in it."

"Thank you, my son. It is pleasing to know that someone believes I look 'cool'." They walked into the living room, and as they sat down, the doorbell rang.

Michelangelo held his hand out to Splinter. "Stay there - I got it." He leapt back up, walked to the front door, and opened it. On the front step was Ms Wohfield, along with a somewhat small, mousy-haired boy dressed in a karate outfit. "Hi," said Michelangelo, politely ignoring the kid's stare and gaping mouth. "Come on in."

Ms Wohfield stepped inside, and sort of dragged her son along after her. "Leonardo?"

"No, I'm Michelangelo." He closed the door and held out his hand. "Mrs Wohfield, right?"

"It's Ms Wohfield, actually - pleased to meet you." She held his hand briefly, then turned to her son. "And this is my youngest son, Austin."

Michelangelo, well aware that Austin probably wasn't looking forward to shaking hands with him, just held his up. "How ya doin'. Sensei's in the living room." He led them in, where Splinter had risen in front of his chair.

"Ms Wohfield," he said, bowing.

"Hello, Mr Hamato. This is my youngest, Austin."

"Austin," repeated Splinter, bowing again. Austin bobbed his head but said nothing. "Please, have a seat." Splinter indicated the couch, and as they sat, Michelangelo took a seat next to Splinter.

Splinter smiled as he began addressing Austin. "Your mother has told me that you have been studying at the Bushido Academy. How long have you been there?"

"It'll be three years in April," answered Ms Hamato.

Glancing over at Ms Hamato, Splinter pointedly looked back at Austin. "Is this correct?"

Austin glanced over at his mother as well before nodding. "Yeah."

"Do you enjoy studying at Bushido Academy?"

Again, Austin looked over at his mother before answering. "It's okay," he said, somewhat non-committally.

"Do you study anything outside school besides the martial arts?"

Ms Wohfield answered, "Austin takes piano lessons, and plays Little League in the summer."

"Indeed," said Splinter, in something between a question and a statement. Donatello entered the room, holding a cup and saucer. "Thank you, my son. Ms Wohfield, would you care for some tea?"

"Why, yes, I do believe I'll have a cup."

Splinter turned to Donatello. "Please serve this cup to Ms Wohfield, please, Donatello? I would like to take Austin down to the dojo."

Ms Wohfield stood up. "I'll join you if you don't mind."

Splinter fixed her with his gaze. "I would prefer to test the student without any outside distractions. I'm sure you understand."

"Oh." Ms Wohfield . "Oh, I see."

"Thank you." Splinter turned back to Michelangelo. "If you will lead the way?"

"Sure thing - come on, Austin." Michelangelo walked out to the hall to the basement door. He flicked on the light and held out his hand. "After you."

Austin slowly crept down the staircase. He felt kind of panicky going down to a basement with two weird creatures walking behind him. His mother warned him that they looked "different", but even he wasn't prepared for just how different. When he reached the basement, he stood at the base of the stairwell in awe. In a near corner, behind a partition, were a washer and dryer, along with several stacked boxes. But those looked as if they belonged in another world. The rest of the basement had been transformed into the mutants' dojo. There were electric lights in the shape of Japanese lanterns crisscrossing the ceiling, giving the room a rather comforting glow. Thin mats had been installed across the entire concrete floor. A variety of weapons - many of which Austin had never seen before - shared the walls with several Japanese paintings and calligraphy. A few cushions sat in the corner next to racks, which held even more weaponry.

"Wow" said Austin quietly.

"Kinda neat, huh?" asked Michelangelo proudly. "Took us about a month to get it in shape, but now we never wanna leave." He led Austin to the middle of the floor, while Splinter headed towards the corner. He sat in formal style on one of the cushions and placed his walking stick beside him.

"Austin, this will not an entrance test," Splinter said. "I simply want to know what you've learned so far. Michelangelo, if you will simply block the advances and not deliver any counter-attacks?"

"Sure thing," said Michelangelo, rotating his head a bit to get it limber.

"Aren't you gonna put on a uniform?" asked Austin.

Michelangelo looked down at his Steelers t-shirt, jeans and bare feet. "Nah, I think I'll be OK in this."

Splinter asked, "Are you ready, Austin?" Austin nodded, assumed the ready position, and brought up his hands. Michelangelo bowed to him, and Austin returned the bow. "OK, then. Whenever you are ready."

Austin began some basic routines, which Michelangelo blocked with the expected responses. Austin moved into slightly more advanced techniques, but again, Michelangelo easily blocked the attacks.

As Austin came ended his routines, Splinter finally spoke. "Thank you, Austin. You obviously have learned your lessons well. Michelangelo, will you excuse us, please?"

Michelangelo was a bit surprised to be dismissed so suddenly, but he knew better than to question his sensei. "Sure thing. Let me know if you need me again." He bowed to Austin, then to Splinter, then walked up the stairs.

Splinter looked at Austin and smiled slightly. "Please, have a seat."

Hesitantly, Austin glanced over at the cushion opposite, then turned back to Splinter. Keeping his eyes on him, he slowly walked over and sat down. Austin couldn't quite make out Splinter's expression - it seemed friendly, mainly - but then again, would he be able to tell what a big mutant rat was thinking just by looking?

Splinter bowed slightly and smiled before he spoke. "Before I take on a student, I believe it prudent to find out as much as I can about him. I would like to ask you a few questions about yourself, if I may." Austin half-shrugged, so Splinter went on, smiling a bit sheepishly. "I know I asked you this question upstairs, but I seem to have forgotten the answer. Outside of martial arts, what other activities do you participate in after school?"

Austin smiled a bit. "Well, I got Little League comin' up in spring. Uh, I got piano lessons on Mondays."

"Excellent. Do you enjoy your piano lessons?"

"They're OK. Mrs Johnson's nice. I don't like practicing every night..."

"Yes, most students do not," Splinter smiled. "What do you do on the weekends?"

"Well, not countin' chores and stuff, usually just hang out with my friends. You know, we go bikin' an' skateboardin' an' stuff."

"Yes" said Splinter, nodding. "One of my sons is also very fond of his skateboard. You say you will be playing Little League in the spring. Baseball, correct?"

"Yeah."

Splinter knew next to nothing about baseball, but he felt it important to continue this thread of the conversation. He felt he might be on to something. He wracked his brain trying to think of a question to ask. "What...position do you normally play?"

"Shortstop," answered Austin, sounding quite a bit more excited. "Last year, they had me playing third base for a bit, but I didn't really like it. It's hard to throw from third all the way to first. I was the only one who could do it, though, so they put me there at the start of the season. Soon, we got Tyler on our team, and he took over so I could play shortstop again."

Encouraged, Splinter asked, "How did your team do last year?"

"Great. We came in second - lost to the Dragons in the playoffs, though. That sucked - I thought we were gonna cream 'em."

"Well, best of luck in the upcoming season, Austin. At school, what are the subjects you enjoy?"

"Science is kinda cool, I guess. And kickball during PE."

"Any subjects you do not like?"

"Math's tough," said Austin, shrugging.

"That also seems to be rather common. Your mother said that you have been studying martial arts for about three years, correct?"

As expected, Splinter saw the light go out of Austin's eyes before he answered. "Yeah, somethin' like that."

"Do you like your instructors?"

Austin shrugged and reluctantly said, "They're OK, I guess."

Splinter put his hands on his knees. "Well, I believe I have learned all I need to." He slowly got to his feet, and then waved towards the stairway. "If you will head up?"

Austin quickly got to his feet and bounded up the steps. Splinter followed behind at a somewhat slower pace. He saw Michelangelo in his chair, foot up on one knee, chatting amiably with Ms Wohfield, and Austin standing by her chair.

"Michelangelo, Austin," said Splinter. "I would like to speak to Ms Wohfield alone, if I may. Would you both do me the courtesy of stepping outside?"

"Sure thing - come on, Austin." Michelangelo jerked his head to the front door and started that way himself. "You play football?"

"Well, baseball, usually?" muttered Austin.

"Baseball, huh? I don't think we've got a baseball or a mitt or nothing. But we can throw the football around a bit..."

Austin shrugged as he went out the door. "'K."

As Michelangelo closed the door behind him, Ms Wohfield turned to Splinter expectantly. "So, tell me the truth, Mr Hamato. Do you think Austin has advanced enough to begin taking lessons from you?"

Splinter thought for a minute, then leaned forward. "Ms Wohfield, I will attempt to explain, if you'll allow me, by telling you a story. There was once a young child who was known as somewhat of a piano prodigy. He was given the opportunity to play before one of the great composers of the time. On that occasion, the child performed a piece of great complexity. Upon finishing, the composer walked up and put his arm around the child. 'You have learned to play the notes,' he said. 'Maybe someday you will learn to play the music.'"

Ms Wohfield remained impassive when Splinter had finished his story, and he realized he would need to explain further.

"From what I have seen, Austin appears to know the notes. But I do not believe he knows the music."

Frowning slightly, Ms Wohfield said, "I'm not sure I understand you, Mr Hamato."

Holding up his hands, Splinter made a vague motion. "Austin went through several techniques and maneuvers for me, and from a technical standpoint, he did all of them correctly. His hands and his feet were all in the right positions, and did what they were supposed to do. But there was a decided lack of...heart in what he did. He knew what to do, but I do not believe he knew why he was doing it in the first place. Ms Wohfield, martial arts are not just a series of predetermined motions by the body. There is an entire mindset involved, one that appeared to be lacking in Austin."

"So," said Ms Wohfield, struggling to understand. "He'll need to work on his mental state while he's your student."

Splinter shook his head sadly. "I do not believe this is something that I can correct. Not without much work. If he were my pupil, the first thing I would do would be to help him unlearn much of which he had been taught."

"Unlearn it?"

Nodding, Splinter said, "I do not believe it is the case that something small is askew, something minor that simply needs to be pushed back into position. Instead, from my vantage point, the entire foundation has been laid incorrectly, and I would feel it necessary to begin again - tear down the building, as it were, fix the foundation, and rebuild from scratch."

"Do you really think that's necessary, Mr Hamato? Surely his years at Bushido Academy haven't been completely wasted?"

Splinter spread his hands. "You have asked my opinion, Ms Wohfield. And I give it honestly. I do not believe that Austin would...be ideally suited to my tutelage."

Ms Wohfield lowered her brow. "You don't think he's good enough."

"Not at all." Smiling a bit, he went on. "You might say he is too good. I would simply do better with a brand new student who had never taken a lesson, simply because in that case I would be starting with a clean slate. As I said, I would have to help Austin unlearn some of the lessons I feel he may have learned, and because of that, I don't believe Austin would progress fast enough to please you," Splinter ended pointedly.

If Ms Wohfield understood the point of the last statement, it didn't show. "So you believe he should stay on at Bushido Academy."

Resigned, and not a little exasperated, Splinter said, "If he is to continue studying martial arts, then yes, the Bushido Academy is probably the best place for him. However, you may wish to consult your son to see if he wishes to continue martial arts training at all."

"At all! What do you mean"

"Did you not hear, Ms Wohfield? I said his heart did not appear to be in it. When I talked to him downstairs in our dojo, nothing he said to me indicated that he had a desire to study the martial arts. He seemed very interested in the upcoming Little League season, somewhat interested in his piano lessons, and even some things at school. But I did not notice any enthusiasm for his martial arts training."

"Well, maybe if we make it clear to him how important it is..."

"Ms Wohfield, martial arts training is not for everybody. If he does not have the desire to study them, I see little point in forcing him to." Seeing Ms Wohfield's expression, he quickly added, "It is not for me to tell you how to raise your child. I only say it because you asked me to be honest with you." Splinter dropped his voice, and added soothingly, "And because I believe you would not want Austin to study something simply to please you."

Ms Wohfield stared at Splinter for a second before getting to her feet. "Well," she said, lips pressed together, "thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to see him."

Splinter also got to his feet and bowed slightly. "And thank you for bringing him by. He is a very fine boy, and you should be very proud of him." He led her to the front door, and watched as she called Austin away from Michelangelo over to the car. Michelangelo waved goodbye to them, and then, carrying the football, headed back inside.

"He's a cool kid," he said.

"Yes, he is," said Splinter. "A pity I will not be training him."

"Really? His mom said no?"

"No, Michelangelo, it was I who declined to take him on. Did you not notice in his sparring a decided lack of...heart?"

Michelangelo furrowed his brow. "You know, now that you mention it, he did seem kinda...robotic."

"Precisely. And that is something I do not believe I could alter without a change in attitude."

"And so your career as a karate instructor ends before it even begins, huh?"

Splinter looked thoughtful. "That might not be the case. Although I did not feel I was well-suited to teach Austin, I feel I might be able to teach other students. It is something I will meditate on." Looking down at his kimono, he added,"Now I most certainly must change out of this."

"What's up?"

"Now that I am a certified driver in the state of New York, I have one final favor to ask of Casey. He is driving me to look at used vehicles that I might purchase."

Michelangelo grabbed the football with both hands. "Really! You're going car shopping! Can I come?"

Splinter smiled. "I know you mean well, but I would rather you did not. If I took you along, I would have to take all of your brothers. And then I would have four additional opinions on the vehicles we see - that is probably too many."

He was obviously a bit crushed by this, but Michelangelo was still happy by the prospect of his family having their own transportation. "Just don't get anything geeky, K?"

Shaking his head slightly, Splinter said, "Consider, Michelangelo. We only have a few requirements for a vehicle for our family. It must be inexpensive, reliable, and be able to fit all five of us inside."

"So, in other words, geeky."

"Precisely, my son. Geeky."


	14. Fourteen

Splinter pulled the van up to the unloading zone, and put on the parking brake. He turned around in his seat and looked at his four charges, smiling.

"Are you prepared for your first day of school, my sons?"

Splinter was expecting a roar of assent, but instead, they mostly fidgeted until Raphael answered for the group. "As ready as we'll ever be, sensei." The rest nodded their heads and murmured approval. Splinter glanced at them, then shook his head. He turned the van off, undid his seatbelt, and walked to the back. Michelangelo and Raphael moved aside to give him a place to sit, while Donatello and Leonardo knelt backwards on the middle seat so they could look back at Splinter.

"Donatello." Donatello ducked his head, and Splinter went on. "Was this not your dream? Attending school?"

Sighing, Donatello said, "Yeah. Yes, it was, sensei. I'm sorry - I don't know why I'm so nervous about this."

"It is certainly not unusual to be nervous or excited on one's first day of school, regardless of when it occurs. But what worries me is a...lack of passion in your actions. I expected to see some excitement with your nervousness. A few months back, all of you seemed very excited at the prospect of attending school, and you remained enthusiastic throughout the testing process. Now, you seem more anxious than excited. What has happened in the interim?"

They all fidgeted instead of answering, but Michelangelo finally admitted, "Well, we've been talking about it the last day or two, and...well, we dunno what people are gonna think of us."

Raphael snorted. "That ain't true, Mike. We do know what people are gonna think. They're gonna think there's four freaks wanderin' around their school."

Splinter pointed at Raphael sharply. "Raphael." Instantly the scorn was gone from Raphael's face. "I believe you have complained of the human's tendency to prejudge you in the past." Raphael half-nodded. "Now, are you not guilty of the same offense? You have now already decided that your fellow students - all of your fellow students - are against you, thus turning what may be potential friends and allies into enemies. Remember - what you interpret as hostility on their part may in fact be simple curiosity."

Raphael sighed and rubbed his face in his hands. "You're right, sensei. As usual." He half-laughed. "You'd think I'd be used to that by now."

"It would appear that you have allowed self-doubt to consume you. And you are well aware that if you believe you will fail, you will most likely fail." Splinter relaxed and smiled. "My sons, today you are setting forth on a brand new journey - yet another step towards full humanity. This should be a time of celebration. Remember, in order for humans to accept you as one of their own, you must display as many positive human traits as possible, and joy is perhaps the most positive human trait there is. Enjoy this new challenge. Attempt to make friends, and do not concern yourselves with the attempts that fail."

Donatello spoke up, haltingly. "But...how are we...I mean, how does one go about making friends, then?"

"I wish I had time to explain this morning, Donatello, but time is short. This evening, perhaps, I will go into detail, but until then, you should keep just one thing in mind. Humans, like you, are social creatures. They desire interaction, and therefore they are as desirous of a friendship as you are. They may reject you individually as a friend, but the need for friendship exists within all of them. And that which they look for in a friend is more or less what you seek in one. Therefore, to make a friend, you simply need to be a friend." Splinter sat up straighter. "It is time, my sons. Heed my words well." He put his hand, palm down, out towards them, and one by one they placed their hands on top of his. "Go and learn, my sons."

"Let's go get us some ed-jum-i-ca-tion!" yelled Michelangelo, quoting some cartoon he saw some years ago. The rest, at last, chimed in their approval. Leonardo pulled the door open, and after grabbing their notebooks and lunches, they all jumped out into the semi-darkness of the early January morning. Despite the low light, but no doubt aided by their loud cry, the several students milling around the front of the school turned to face them. There was instantly a lot of murmuring and pointing, but, as expected, no direct confrontation. Michelangelo, taking Splinter's lesson to heart, beamed a smile at everyone as he waited for Leonardo to close the door. Donatello managed a crooked smile, but Raphael simply smirked.

They made their way into the main doors, glancing everywhere. They'd been on the street before, but never in a crowd quite like this. James K Polk High School was one of the biggest in the city - almost 5000 students. Kids swarmed by them going in almost every direction, somehow making their way to where they needed to be, even managing a few gasps and stares in their direction. Donatello found a slightly empty spot to the side of the stairway, and headed over there, with his brothers in tow. To no one's surprise, everyone gave them wide berth.

"We'd better get our bearings," said Donatello. He fished into his front pocket and removed a folded-up piece of paper. Unfolding it, he scanned the top. "Okay - my first class is chemistry, room 109B. But our lockers are on the third floor. I can lug my stuff around until after the first class, though."

Raphael nodded, looking at his own schedule.. "I got Spanish first - room 326. I guess that's on the third floor, so if you need me to carry something up to the locker, I can do it."

Michelangelo smiled a bit. "I got the same class, so ditto that."

Donatello nodded. "Cool, thanks. Leo, you've got math first, right?" He paused for a second, and upon not hearing an answer, glanced up. "Leo?"

Leonardo was turned away, staring at the crowd of students, many of whom where staring back at them as they walked by. Upon hearing his name a second time, he briefly glanced back at Donatello, then turned back to the crowd. "Yeah?" he said, barely audible.

"Um, what's your first class again?"

Again Leonardo only glanced back before answering. "Algebra."

"And where is that?"

This time Leonardo didn't even bother turning around. "Room 163."

Donatello decided to let this rather odd behavior slide. "All right. So Leo and I are on this floor. Mike, you and I've got lunch together - fourth period, right?" Michelangelo nodded. "Cool - you want to meet up at the locker then?"

Michelangelo gave a thumbs-up. "It's a date."

"All right. I guess the rest of you, I'll see you when I see you."

Raphael spoke up. "You want Mike 'n' me to take your lunches up?"

"Would you? Thanks." Donatello handed his sack to Raphael, then turned to Leonardo, who was still staring at the crowd of people filing past. "Leo? Your lunch?" Leonardo turned around, glanced at each of them in turn, then handed oven his sack to Raphael.

"Cool. Good luck." He watched as Raphael and Michelangelo started up the steps, and observed the looks they got. Hopefully, that would start tapering off soon. He turned back to Leonardo. "You ready?" Grimly, Leonardo nodded once. Donatello moved back into the crowd, smiling slightly at the space that opened up for them. He glanced at other students, but, remembering Splinter's advice, avoided looking at any one for too long. Suddenly, he realized Leonardo was no longer right behind him. Swinging around, he saw him leaning up against the wall, eyes closed. Donatello headed back and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Leo, what's wrong?"

"Too many," he muttered.

"Too many what?" Donatello looked around. "Too many...people?" Leonardo nodded, eyes still closed. "What's the matter with them?"

"I can't..." Leonardo glanced around, his free hand and arm fidgeting.

Donatello tried to think. What would Leonardo be upset about? Wait a minute. Of all of us, Leonardo was the most untrusting, the most serious about everything. He was always on the defensive, thinking everything was a battle situation. He was probably trying to size everyone up as a potential threat...and there were hundreds of people here. Leonardo's brain was probably overloading. He grabbed Leonardo's shoulders and gaze into his eyes.

"Leo, look at me." He stared until his stare was returned. "These aren't the Foot," he said quietly. "They're fellow students. You gotta relax."

Leonardo shuddered, closed his eyes and nodded. "Yeah."

Donatello paused for a second, then asked, "You gonna be OK?"

Nodding again, Leonardo opened his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

Grinning, Donatello smacked Leonardo lightly across the face, which caused Leonardo's eyes to open wide. "Snap out of it," Donatello said. "We got class to get to." Once more he began leading the way down the hallway, with Leonardo behind.

* * *

The bell had rung, and class had started by the time Raphael and Michelangelo found their class. Raphael stared at the door. "So...you ready?"

"Si, senor," said Michelangelo, who reached around him, opened the door, and led them inside. The door was situated at the back of the class, forcing them to make their way up to the front. The scattered conversations from the class fell away by the time they reached the teacher's desk, as Raphael smirked at each of them in turn. Mrs Rodriguez, a small Hispanic woman, looked up at them nervously.

"Yes, what is this?" she said, in a still-somewhat-friendly tone.

Michelangelo smiled. "Hello. My name is Michelangelo Hamato, and this is my brother Raphael." Raphael tried to change his smirk to a smile, as Michelangelo continued. "We're new students." He handed his schedule to her, who glanced it over.

"Um, all right." She looked back up at them. "Well, this is Spanish 1, but we're starting our second semester. Do either of you know any Spanish?"

"Well, we've picked up a few words and phrases..." said Michelangelo uncertainly.

"Caiga su arma!" said Raphael. "Es usted el pie?"

"La ambulancia esta viniendo," added Michelangelo. "Nothing very useful, I guess, but we should be able to pick up what we've missed."

Ms Rodriguez didn't seem entirely sure, but she didn't want to spend all class arguing. If these students weren't ready, she'd find out soon enough. Turning to a side table, she pulled two beat-up textbooks from a pile and handed them to the turtles. "I'm sorry, what were your names again?"

"I'm Michelangelo...well, Miguel, for this class, I guess."

"Raphael."

"OK. Here are your books." They both took the books and held them up to their foreheads. She wasn't sure what that meant, but she decided not to ask. She opened a folder on her desk. "What number book do you have?"

Raphael looked at the large number drawn in black ink along the pages. "Cuarto cero siete."

"Cuarto dos nuevo," added Michelangelo.

"Muy bueno," said Mrs Rodriguez, feeling somewhat relieved as she wrote the numbers down. They might do OK after all. "Sientese por favor."

They turned to face the class, who not surprisingly were all gaping at them. Michelangelo frowned slightly - he was hoping to sit next to Raphael, but it didn't look like there were two open seats together. Michelangelo pointed to a seat towards the back. Raphael nodded and moved back to sit there. Michelangelo ended up sitting along the side, about halfway back. He pulled out his pen, and tried to switch his brain into Spanish mode.

* * *

"Good luck!" Donatello waved goodbye to Leonardo as heopened the door. The students turned back to see who the interloper was, and Leonardo had to suppress the urge to take a defensive stance. Instead, he stepped in and stiffly walked up to the teacher. The teacher stood up at the chalkboard, mouth agape.

"Hello," said Leonardo, a bit too formally. "Mr. Buchanan?" The teacher simply nodded, and Leonardo forced a smile. "I'm Leonardo Hamato, a new student." He held up his schedule, but Mr Buchanan made no move to take it. After an uncomfortable pause, Leonardo said, "Um...should I just take a seat?"

Finally Mr Buchanan managed to speak. "You're kidding, right?"

"You don't want me to take a seat?"

"No, c'mon! What's with the get up?"

Leonardo instinctively glanced down at his clothes, even though he knew that wasn't the real issue. "Sorry, Mr Buchanan. This is pretty much what I look like."

Mr Buchanan sighed. "Fine. I just don't understand why you kids insist on making yourself look so...odd." Leonardo thought about arguing this point, but decided he could discuss it after class. "Just...have a seat."

Leonardo found an open desk about halfway back, where he took his seat. Reluctantly, he took out a pen, opened his new notebook to the first blank page, and waited for the lesson to begin. Inwardly, he sighed - this wasn't shaping up to be the most ideal first day.

To his left, Leonardo spotted some movement. A female student was franticly searching her pockets and backpack. Scanning her over, he realized what she was lacking - a pen. Quietly, Leonardo made a clicking noise with his tongue until she faced him. Smiling a bit, Leonardo extended his pen towards her and raised his eyebrows. She looked stunned for a second, then smiled a bit and took the pen from him, mouthing "thanks" to him. Leonardo smiled, closed his eyes and shook his head - "that's all right". He pulled out another pen, clicked it open, and watched as the teacher began writing on the blackboard. Hm, maybe Splinter was right - maybe this wouldn't be too hard. He just hoped his pen supply would hold out.

* * *

The bell rang, and instantly there was a flurry of activity in the classroom. "Don't forget to review your verb conjugations!" warned Mrs Rodriguez above the din. "We'll have a quick quiz on them on Friday."

Raphael waited for Michelangelo to catch up to him, giving his smile/smirk to anyone who gave him the eye. They fell in step beside each other. Raphael shrugged. "Doesn't seem that hard."

"Veremos," said Michelangelo, grinning, as they entered the crowded hallway. "Let's see where we're heading next." He leaned against the wall and pulled out his schedule. "English. Hey, that should be easy after Spanish - I already speak that pretty well."

Raphael smirked as he scanned his schedule. "Gym for me - as far from this room as possible, of course."

"I'm kinda the same way. If we hurry, we might be on time."

As they turned to rejoin the flood of students making their way down the hall, a hand reached out from the crowd and shoved Michelangelo, hard. For a split second, he was off balance, but the training kicked in, and he recovered himself without slamming into the wall or anyone else. He spun to look at his accoster. He was rather tall and lanky, with dark black hair and a sneering face. He wore a jeans jacket with several punk bands written or pinned into place. Michelangelo recognized some of them, and immediately felt somewhat miffed - how dare this idiot like the same bands he did! "So, can I...help you with something?" Michelangelo said cynically.

The punk spoke through his teeth. "Look, we already got enough freaks in this school."

Michelangelo shrugged. "And I don't want pricks like you in my school. Looks like we both got a problem. C'mon, Raph, let's go." He didn't want Raphael embroiled in this if at all possible.

"I ain't done talkin' to you, freak!" said the punk, who hadn't budged.

Michelangelo spun around and walked backwards. "Well, just pretend I'm there. We've gotta get to class." He finished turning completely around and continued shepherding Raphael down the hallway.

"Why'd you retreat?" asked Raphael. "I was all set to knock him silly."

"Funny," said Michelangelo. "That's the exact reason why I retreated." In the back of his head, though, a question kept nagging at him. What did that sleazoid mean when he said there were "enough freaks" already at the school?

* * *

Leonardo stood up and headed out the door. Three classes, and his mind was already spinning. It seemed like every class held some sort of drama for him. This last one, biology, was no exception. Mr Langtry looks like he didn't really want me in this class, thought Leonardo. Maybe because he's not sure if he can classify me, biologically.

Leonardo was so lost in thought the he completely missed someone calling his name. It wasn't until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he spun around and looked into a familiar face. It took him a few seconds to place it, but then his face exploded in a huge grin. "Jake!"

"It is Leonardo, right? I still can't tell you apart," Jake said apologetically.

"No, you're right - I'm Leo. Lucky you found me first, I guess."

"Actually, I didn't. Already chatted with Donatello. He told me you'd be the one wearing the blue shirt, so I've been keeping my eyes peeled for it."

Leonardo shook his head, still grinning. "It's really good to see you again, Jake."

"You, too. I didn't get to ask Donatello - you just move into the neighborhood?"

"Something like. We've been home schooled up until now, so this is our first taste of school." Leonardo looked at the crowds making their way down the hall. "I've never been in a crowd like this. It's nice to see a friendly face in it."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. When do you have lunch?"

Leonardo pulled his already beaten-up schedule out of his pocket and examined it. "Um, not next, but the one afterwards - fifth period."

"That's mine, too. You want to meet up?"

"Yeah, that'd be great!" Leonardo was a bit embarrassed how excited he sounded, but it was a huge relief to have an ally within this mass of humanity. "I'm going to meet Raphael at our lockers at the start of the period, up on the third floor. Where should I meet you?"

"Do you know where the west lunchroom is?"

"No clue."

Jake pointed down the hallway. "End of the hall, right turn, end of the hall again. I'll save you guys a couple seats." Glancing at his watch, Jake made a face. "Look, I gotta motor. I'll see in a bit."

"Sure thing."

"See ya!" Jake put his hand on his backpack strap as he hurried down the corridor. Leonardo watched him go, then decided he'd better hurry to his next class, too. He hustled back down the hall and managed to get into the classroom before the bell rang. As he entered, he realized he had also gotten there before the teacher. Somewhat at a loss, he looked around the room. US Geography is a single semester class, thought Leonardo, which means everyone's in here for the first time. So I guess I can sit pretty much anywhere I like.

Gripping his books tighter, Leonardo made his way to some empty seats near the back, ignoring the expected stares. He selected a seat, sat down, and began organizing his things. While doing so, he idly thought about the class. US Geography - this shouldn't be too difficult. He already knew the states (and, if he gave it some thought, their capitals), as well as where the big mountains and rivers were. This would be a good class to have right before lunch.

"Hey."

Leonardo wasn't entirely sure, but he thought that that comment was directed at him. He looked up to his left, and as expected, he saw someone staring at him. However, he wasn't expecting the eyes that bore into him to be yellow, with black slits for pupils. They sat inside a face that was brown, but streaked and dotted with black and white. The face was furry, with a smallish pink nose with small whiskers coming out of the side. Whatever it was smiled slightly at Leonardo, and he caught a glimpse of small but sharp teeth inside the mouth.

"Please," it said. "Tell me you're a mutant, too."

Leonardo blinked as it hit him. Another mutant! Grinning, he said, "You think I'd choose to look like this ifI could help it?"

The cat-like creature closed its eyes and let out its breath. "I can't believe it." Opening its eyes and gazing at Leonardo, he said, "I saw you down the hall..." Suddenly, the cat stopped and tilted its head in a rather bizarre fashion. "Wait, didn't you have a yellow shirt on earlier?"

"Yellow? No, that was my brother."

The cat's eyes got larger. "You've got a brother here, too!"

"Three, actually," said Leonardo. "Four of us total."

Slowly, the cat shook his head, grinning. "I can't believe it," he repeated. "You don't know how great that is."

"How come?"

"How come? Because I'm no longer the only mutant at James K Polk High School is how come. Now I'm just one of five." The cat extended a paw. "I'm Gavin."

"Leonardo." Leonardo took the paw briefly. It felt kind of strange, but he knew that his two-fingered hand probably felt just as strange to Gavin. "But call me Leo."

"Leo." Gavin pulled his paw back and continued beaming. "Wow. This is so cool. You have lunch next period?"

"Yeah, I'm meeting up with one of my brothers, and this other friend of mine." Leonardo thought he saw Gavin's face fall a bit. "But you're more than welcome to join us."

"Sure, that'd be great." Gavin suddenly got quiet as the teacher finally shuffled into the classroom, murmuring her apologies. Leonardo pulled out his pen and flipped open his notebook. He only half-heard the teacher's introduction to the class, as he mulled over his last two meetings - first with Jake, and now with Gavin. Leonardo smiled as he began jotting down notes. Donatello was right - this school thing might not be so bad after all.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've gotten a lot of e-mails and reviews asking when I'm going to be writing the next chapter. I should know better than to say "never", but for right now, and for me, the story is complete. I wrote this chapter (14) intending it to be the final chapter of the story. My idea was to take the turtles "from the sewer and into the school", and that's been accomplished. :) One or two people have expressed interest in taking the story forward from this point - if you'd like to do that, you're more than welcome to. But for the foreseeable future, I will not be writing another chapter to this story. I consider it complete as is. Thanks for all your wonderful comments - they please me to no end. :) 


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